Chapter 232
Chapter 232
The torrential rain seemed only to make Gryffindor stronger.
Angelina Johnson and her fellow Chasers scored again and again. Borrowing Neville’s binoculars, Suer could see the frustration on Cedric’s face. Cedric wiped the rain fiercely from his eyes, hauled his broom upwards and began circling high above the pitch. Hufflepuff’s only remaining path to victory was the tiny Golden Snitch that appeared and vanished without warning.
Hermione too was swept up in the excitement. Every goal Angelina scored with the help of the Weasley twins brought a little cheer from her.
“Now I understand the appeal of Quidditch!”
When the fifth Quaffle was driven mercilessly through Hufflepuff’s hoop, she sprang up with her arms around Suer’s neck and shouted into his ear.
Could you pay a little attention, Hermione? I’m a Hufflepuff. Is it really appropriate to celebrate a Gryffindor goal while hanging from my neck?
Suer sighed helplessly.
As the downpour intensified and the wind grew colder, Wood knocked away a Hufflepuff attack, raised one hand and landed to call a time-out. He appeared to be revising their tactics.
When Harry descended to the ground, everyone saw that he was soaked through. His slight body trembled in the gale.
“Harry must be freezing,” Ron said, turning around.
Wood gathered his teammates and began issuing instructions. Even Cedric, who had been circling the pitch tirelessly, gained a brief chance to rest.
Shrill…
Madam Hooch blew her whistle once more. The match resumed.
The heavens seemed to have overturned. Rain hammered the grass without end, splashing mud in every direction.
Cheers and jeers rose one after another. Harry and Cedric each claimed a section of the sky, circling in tacit agreement as they searched the curtain of rain for a flash of gold.
Suddenly, perhaps because the cold had numbed his fingers, Harry’s hand slipped. He and his broom dropped several feet. They stopped in mid-air, and Neville cried out in alarm.
Harry had barely risen into the sky again when Jordan’s voice rang across the pitch.
“Look at Diggory! He’s spotted something. He’s accelerating! Oh, for goodness’ sake, when will Gryffindor notice? The Golden Snitch! Diggory has seen the Golden Snitch!”
“Ahem! Ahem!”
Professor McGonagall coughed loudly in warning. Jordan was clearly trying to alert his beloved Gryffindor team, which was plainly against the rules.
Harry seemed to understand. He tugged his broom sharply to the right and saw the Golden Snitch too. Bending low, he urged the Nimbus faster.
At that moment, a flash of light crossed the sky.
“Look up there!” Neville shouted in terror. “Those are… Dementors!”
More and more people noticed the black cloaks weaving through the clouds.
The Dementors were approaching the pitch like hyenas that had scented prey. Their withered, mottled hands extended from their robes, hideously clear.
Others had somehow appeared upon the grass. They raised their hooded heads towards the young witches and wizards in the stands as though breathing something in.
Cold enveloped the entire stadium.
Everyone felt a despair too profound for words. The joy and excitement of Quidditch vanished with terrifying speed.
It was as though an unseen hand had closed around every throat. No one could make a sound.
“Expecto Patronum!”
Silver light flashed through the Gryffindor stand, and Suer’s voice rang across the silent pitch.
He stood atop a bench with his wand held level before him, rising above everyone around him, determination in his eyes.
“Go.”
Magic surged through his body and into the wand he now raised high. Silver radiance burst from its tip. A blurred white animal rapidly took shape, circled the stand twice, then raced into the sky.
Pearl-white light blazed across the darkened pitch.
The Dementors in the clouds recoiled as though confronted by their natural enemy. Yet they refused to leave and continued circling above the Quidditch stadium.
Suer had forgotten about the Dementors on the ground.
Several of them looked towards one another, then slowly rose towards the Gryffindor stand.
“Harry! Look at Harry!”
Because Suer had cast the Patronus Charm, the pupils nearest him were the first to recover. Before they could even sigh with relief, they saw Harry swaying unsteadily in the air, and Ron cried out.
“He’s! Going! To! Fall! Agh–”
The Dementors rising from below had already drawn near. Cold swept through Suer’s soul, interrupting the flow of magic in his body for an instant. His Patronus, still confronting the Dementors in the clouds, immediately weakened.
One of the Dementors floated up directly before him.
“Expecto Patronum!”
Professor McGonagall’s furious voice rang out. A mass of silver light flared near the commentary box, too brilliant for anyone to distinguish what lay inside.
It shot into the sky. Suer caught the faint outline of something feline within it.
The clouds broke apart. The hidden Dementors emitted piercing shrieks as they were forced into view and driven back.
Sensing its master’s peril, Suer’s Patronus turned in mid-air and bounded back towards him.
“Get out!” Suer levelled his wand coldly at the Dementors rising from the ground.
The silver badger appeared before him in an instant and struck one of them with its outstretched paws.
The nearest Dementor tumbled downwards as though kicked like a football.
“Expecto Patronum!”
“Expecto Patronum!”
Wisps and clouds of silver mist began to glow in scattered sections of the stands, though many never assumed a definite shape.
They came from older pupils. The Patronus Charm was among the spells taught during sixth- and seventh-year Charms.
Before Suer could breathe freely, Neville’s terrified voice rang out.
“What is that Dementor doing?”
Suer hurriedly focused his eyes. Of course — Harry was still in the air.
Amid the confusion, one Dementor had drawn close to him. Its hooded head had almost covered Harry’s face.
“Get out!”
Dumbledore had arrived. No one had ever seen him so furious. Flames seemed to burn in his eyes.
He appeared directly in the centre of the pitch and raised his wand, his white robes snapping in the gale.
In the teachers’ stand, Snape, who had risen without anyone noticing, slowly sat down again.
Dumbledore held his wand high. A tiny silver sun ignited at the centre of the stadium, dazzlingly bright without hurting the eyes.
Suer heard a long, clear cry. An enormous, indistinct bird spread its wings within the silver sun and raced towards Harry.
The Dementor that had already covered half of Harry’s body took the full force of Dumbledore’s enraged Patronus.
It released a shriek filled with fear, split down the middle and melted into a strand of grey mist that vanished from sight.
Harry was revealed with his eyes tightly shut, hanging upside down from his broom and clinging to it by instinct alone.
The great silver bird swept past him without slowing. High above the pitch, it dissolved into strands of cloud that drifted gently downwards. Their warmth rapidly dispelled the cold blanketing the stadium.
The Dementors on the ground had already scattered.
Those confronting Suer were no exception.
Harry, who had lost consciousness at some point, went limp as soon as the Dementor’s hold released him and slipped from his broom.
Dumbledore calmly raised a hand and pointed towards the falling boy.