"Let me try." Hermione, cloaked, walked over and said softly. Because of Ron, their meeting time had been greatly reduced. Moreover, Harry's stance had previously been on Ron's side, and he hadn't expected Hermione to help him.
"Thank you." Harry said awkwardly, the atmosphere a bit embarrassed, and handed over his glasses.
"I'm just doing my part for my House and my friends." Hermione took the glasses, tapped them lightly with her wand, and said, "Waterproof and moisture-proof!" "Okay!" she said, returning the glasses to Harry, "Water won't bother your glasses anymore!" Wood watched from the side, as if he had seen an angel, wishing he could rush up and give her a hug.
As for Slytherin, they were much quieter. Their overall physical fitness was generally stronger than their opponents, and with the various equipment provided by a certain someone, the impact of the rainy weather on them was minimized.
"How is it? The opponents, with the most ordinary equipment, are evenly matched with you. Are you very proud?" Malfoy scanned the Slytherin players. Even Marcus Flint, a seventh-year student and captain, couldn't help but be silent in front of him, not daring to retort.
"However, it's still barely satisfactory." Then he nodded and said, "At least they didn't let them snatch the Snitch right now."
"Next, continue to use your advantages. The longer the Gryffindor team drags on with us, the more beneficial it will be for us." While speaking, Malfoy waved his wand and summoned a flickering orange-red flame, its light and warmth uncertain in the dim environment.
"Come warm yourselves, everyone. I think even the most advanced equipment can't completely resist all the rain." As Malfoy spoke, he manipulated the flame, circling it around all the team members, drying the areas that the protective gear hadn't covered and were wet from the rain. The team members felt their bodies return to a warm state, which was simply wonderful.
"Dra…" Pansy wanted to ask some other questions, such as about tactics, but Malfoy's reminder diverted her attention.
"Madam Hooch is blowing the whistle to start. Go on up." He reminded.
All the players returned to the sky above the pitch as the whistle blew again.
Watching the streaks of afterimages on the field, Malfoy was somewhat lost in thought. He actually had no interest in these activities. Even when Pansy sometimes asked him to help the team, he generally just thought about doing it perfunctorily, without much real interest. However, this year was different. Whether it was this game or the future Quidditch Cup, he had reasons for Slytherin to win.
"There's still a dangerous element here." While thinking, Malfoy's gaze swept across the stands, seeing the students waving flags and cheering for their supported teams. Even though the wind and rain blocked their cheers, they were still shouting themselves hoarse.
Oh right, there was also a girl wearing a lion-head-shaped hat, cheering for a House that wasn't her own. The hat occasionally emitted bursts of realistic roars, creating a vacuum zone around her, as the students were unwilling to stand with her.
Malfoy's gaze didn't linger on the first few rows, but instead went straight to the last row. A huge black dog covered in coarse fur was sitting there, its paws on the back of the seat in front, looking up intently at the game in the sky.
"What touching affection." The corner of Malfoy's mouth curled into a strange arc, not knowing whether it was emotion or something else. "According to blood relations, it seems you're still my elder. I'm very sorry, but the next time we meet, perhaps I'll be a bit disrespectful." Today wasn't suitable for taking some of his planned actions against Black, because he had more important things to do.
Just then, a burst of exclamations came from the stands. Malfoy saw the black dog suddenly stand up, its eyes staring straight at the sky, filled with anxious emotion. It was hard to imagine that a black dog's eyes could be filled with so much emotion. Then the black dog immediately returned to its original state, and then jumped off the seat with a whoosh, reluctantly darting towards another direction. At least as a dog, its behavior couldn't be too abnormal. He couldn't let people notice him. Lupin recognized his Animagus. He could only endure his worry for Harry and leave temporarily. He could only pin his hopes on Dumbledore, the respected headmaster, not letting Harry get hurt.
"Finally making a move? Dementors?" Malfoy chuckled. Today might be the last time all the Dementors publicly appeared in front of humans.
On the field.
Harry's numb hands slipped on the broom. His Nimbus 2000 dropped a few feet. He had just seen that big dog in the stands again, the big dog symbolizing misfortune and death. He brushed the wet tassels from his eyes and squinted at the stands again. The dog was gone.
He didn't have time to care about the dog anymore, because a flash of gold caught all of his attention. "The Golden Snitch!" His heart pounded.
He steered the broom towards the flash of gold.
But, something strange happened. A silence born of fear fell over the stands around the pitch; the wind, though still as strong as before, forgot to howl, as if someone had turned off the wind; it was as if Harry had suddenly gone deaf—what was happening? Then a familiar, terrible cold washed over him again, inside his body, and just then he felt something moving on the pitch below… Harry didn't have time to think, and took his eyes off the Golden Snitch to look down.
At least a hundred Dementors were standing below, their faces, hidden beneath their hoods, all turned towards him. It felt like frozen water rising from his chest, cutting at his insides. Then he heard the sound again… someone was moaning, moaning inside his head… a woman… "Don't move, Harry. Don't move, Harry, please don't move, Harry!" "Get out of the way, you stupid woman… get out of the way, now…" "Don't move, Harry, please don't, take me, kill me instead—"
Harry's mind was numb, his mind a white fog… What was he doing? Why was he flying? He had to help her… She was going to die… She was going to be murdered… He was falling, falling into the cold fog. "Don't move, Harry! Please don't move… Mercy… Mercy…"
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, Harry knew nothing more. "Luckily the ground was soft." "I thought he was a goner." "But he didn't even break his glasses." Harry heard these people whispering, but couldn't understand what they were saying. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten here, or what he had been doing before he got here. All he knew was that he was in pain all over, as if he had been beaten. "That was the most horrible thing I've ever seen." The most horrible… The most horrible thing… Black shadows in hoods… Cold… Screaming… (To be continued.)
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