Chapter 55 "Expecto Patronum"

On the morning of November 7th, a Saturday, Skyler roused himself early from the comfort of his dormitory bed.

He had decided to attend today's Quidditch match in person, even though the sport didn't particularly interest him.

He was well aware, however, that today's game was bound to be something of a spectacle.

The thunderstorm outside raged on, with fierce winds battering the castle's outer walls and the windows shuddering against the assault.

As Skyler made his way down the first-floor corridor, he couldn't help but notice the relentless howling winds and the torrents of rain outside.

It was clear that today's storm was even more ferocious than yesterday's.

Meanwhile, Skyler strolled leisurely towards the Great Hall, preparing to enjoy his breakfast.

A little later, Daphne, Astoria, and Meredith entered the hall, dressed in heavy raincoats.

The three girls couldn't help but exchange puzzled glances when they saw Skyler, who was dressed much lighter than they were.

Their questions were soon answered.

After breakfast, the four of them made their way outside the castle.

Despite the storm, the students and teachers of Hogwarts, undeterred by the weather, rushed across the wet lawn to the Quidditch stadium, where they sat in the rain-soaked stands, hunched over to shield themselves from the fierce wind.

In contrast, Skyler and the three girls walked towards the stadium at a leisurely pace.

The violent raindrops seemed to slide off an invisible barrier around them.

Astoria, in awe of this unusual protection, regarded Skyler with admiration.

Meredith, who understood the extent of his powers, marveled, "He's completely dry with no enchantment against water or fire, and there are four of us..."

Even Meredith, who was used to Skyler's abilities, couldn't help but be astonished at his rapid progress. He had worked diligently, but the gap between them seemed to be growing wider.

Five minutes into the game, all the players were drenched through and through.

The weather was bitterly cold, and many of them were shivering. Visibility was poor, with teammates barely discernible amid the swirling rain and chaotic play.

It was challenging to track the Quaffle as it darted erratically across the pitch.

In the stands, the spectators huddled beneath cloaks and wind-battered umbrellas, their cheers and shouts barely audible over the howling gale.

The heavy rain made it nearly impossible to keep their eyes open, and it was difficult to make out the Quaffle as it whizzed through the air.

Just as Gryffindor was leading by 50 points, Harry and Cedric simultaneously spotted the Golden Snitch.

They both veered toward it, with Cedric initially closer to the elusive prize.

However, Harry's agile broom and nimble performance speed on his Firebolt allowed him to outpace Cedric.

At that very moment, a peculiar event unfolded within the stadium.

An eerie hush descended upon the stands, creating an atmosphere of eerie stillness amid the tempestuous weather.

The powerful winds seemed to have momentarily forgotten their raucous howling, as though someone had turned down the volume on the blustering gale.

A dark, inky stain marred the distant sky, spreading outward like spilled ink in water.

More than a hundred Dementors, lured by the joyful atmosphere at the Quidditch match, converged upon the scene with a bone-chilling, icy current.

These Dementors appeared as if they had been summoned to a sinister feast.

Cloaked in tattered, dark gray robes, they hovered ominously in the air.

From within their hooded figures, rotting hands with oozing pus emerged, quivering with malevolence, exuding an overpowering stench of putrefaction.

Following the icy trails in the air, Skyler observed something invisible being drawn out of the stands and devoured by the hovering dementors above—the delight and happiness of the young wizards watching the game.

Skyler's eyes flashed with determination.

He sprang to his feet, brandishing his wand and pointing it at the dementor in the center of the field, his voice resonating with fury: "Expecto Patronum!"

In an instant, a collective gasp filled the stadium as an incredible sight unfolded.

For the first time, they witnessed a majestic, silvery-white dragon emerge from the magical haze!

This enormous Dragon dwarfed a human, even surpassing Hagrid in size.

It sported impressive wings reminiscent of bat wings, extending grandly and beautifully as it gracefully soared into the sky.

The Dragon's head rose proudly, releasing a deafening roar that reverberated through the air.

With a burst of magical momentum, the giant Dragon, enveloped in a silvery-white mist, surged toward the Dementors, haunting the ground. It exuded a magnificent aura that filled the air.

In the sky, Harry continued to approach the Golden Snitch. He was nearly there, outpacing Cedric.

But at that moment, time seemed to come to a standstill. Harry felt as though he had plunged into an abyss from which there was no escape.

The temperature plummeted, his breath crystallized, and the freezing rain pierced his body, cutting into his very core.

Within his mind, he heard the same voice he had heard on the train—an agonized, pleading voice of a woman, begging for Harry to be released from the torment.

Dizziness overcame him, and he tumbled off his broomstick.

Just as he thought he would plummet to the ground, a silver-white Dragon appeared, swooping up from below to catch Harry, who had lost consciousness.

The Dragon gently deposited him onto the grass.

The audience, overwhelmed by despair, vulnerability, and fear due to the sinister influence of the Dementors, were suddenly greeted by the sight of the radiant, silvery-white Dragon, a beacon of light and hope in their bleak world.

The young wizards in the stands turned in unison to behold an unforgettable spectacle—a boy, still with a youthful visage, his wand pointed at over a hundred menacing Dementors in the sky.

Compared to the looming Dementors, his stature appeared diminutive, but it was precisely his unyielding presence that shone brilliantly against the encroaching darkness.

His eyes blazed with determination, his wand remained steadfastly raised, and a luminous mist continuously surged forth to battle the oncoming Dementor horde.

Skyler's unwavering determination resonated with all the little wizards, igniting a glimmer of hope in those who had succumbed to despair.

Even the oppressive aura of the Dementors seemed to wane.

This indelible image would be etched in their minds, remaining vivid in their memories for years to come.

"Look! It's Skyler! That's his Patronus!"

"Oh my goodness! How did he manage this? There are so many dementors here, isn't he terrified?"

"We can't leave him alone..."

"Skyler, hold on! We're here to help you!"

Empowered by Skyler's courage and leadership, the young wizards rose to their feet one by one, raising their wands and casting Expecto Patronum.

Like stars in the dark night, silver-white lights twinkled on the stands. At least forty of these luminescent beings emerged.

Many began to solidify their corporeal Patronuses using their wands.

Draco's Patronus took the form of a Komodo dragon; Pansy's, a fox; Daphne's, a cobra; Meredith's, a lynx; Astoria's and Hermione's, a peacock and otter, respectively; Luna's, a hare; Morag's, a swan; Penelope's, a white-tailed harrier.

Following these nine Patronuses, white mists surged upward, and numerous halos scattered around.

The silvery-white Dragon dashed into the throng of dementors, colliding with more than ten of them in a single impact.

With each powerful stroke of its wings, a lash of its long tail, and a swipe of its four sharp claws, it struck down dementor after dementor.

The Dragon appeared to be the natural enemy of the dementors, moving effortlessly amidst the threats, pummeling them with confidence.

The Patronuses followed the Dragon, launching a second wave of assaults on the dementors, forcing them back by at least ten feet.

Behind these Patronuses, other young wizards released a plethora of white mist.

Their joyous emotions didn't suffice to manifest corporeal Patronuses. Still, their collective mist converged to create a magical barrier akin to a formidable city wall, dispelling fear and cold in an instant.

In the next moment, a sweet, melodious chirp resonated from the highest point of the castle.

A colossal silvery-white phoenix took flight from Dumbledore's office. It was Dumbledore's Patronus!

Skyler couldn't help but sneer inwardly.

Their illustrious Headmaster always had a penchant for arriving late, choosing to make a grand entrance in the nick of time.

This time, he might have miscalculated!

As the silvery-white phoenix eventually reached the field, all the Dementors had been driven to the court's edge.

The phoenix, unwilling to be deprived of its moment, surged after the fleeing Dementors, delivering one final sweeping assault.

Then, with an awkward hover, it dissipated into the air.

Harry abruptly opened his eyes, finding himself in the school hospital.

The Gryffindor Quidditch players, splattered with mud from head to toe, huddled around his bedside.

Ron and Hermione stood vigil, offering their support.

"Digory caught the Golden Snitch!" Fred exclaimed a hint of excitement in his voice. "Just after you fell, he was clueless about what happened. When he saw you hit the ground, he intended to end the game. I really wish we could play again."

"But they won fairly and squarely. Even Wood concedes this," George added.

Harry lay in the hospital bed, eavesdropping on Fred and George's discussion, remaining silent.

They had lost, and it was all because of him.

It marked the first time he'd lost a Quidditch match.

Approximately ten minutes later, Madam Pomfrey approached, instructing the team members to let Harry rest.

The team departed, and Madam Pomfrey closed the door behind them.

Ron and Hermione shared a look and stayed.

"I think I saw a lot of dementors," Harry murmured.

"There were more than a hundred dementors, Harry!" Hermione's voice trembled. "I was so frightened I didn't know what to do. Horrifying thoughts raced through my mind. It was all thanks to Skyler. His Patronus woke everyone up..."

"Okay, Hermione!" Ron's irritation welled up somehow, and he shouted, "Skyler's Patronus was utterly useless; it was Dumbledore who drove them away. The dementors fled when they saw Dumbledore approaching from a distance, scared of his Patronus! To me, it feels like a Slytherin plot, that Malfoy kid had no good intentions. Think about it—if it weren't for his Patronus, Diggory might have passed out. In that case, Gryffindor wouldn't have lost."

"What on earth are you saying, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, taken aback. "If it weren't for Skyler's Patronus catching Harry, Harry might have suffered severe injuries from that fall. What's gotten into you?"

Seeing Hermione's reaction, Ron's temper flared further.

An inexplicable sense of jealousy stirred in his heart.

He had been at the Quidditch Stadium, attempting the Patronus charm.

His wand had only produced a brief flicker of light before fizzling out.

Witnessing Hermione successfully conjure her Patronus, he couldn't shake the uncomfortable sensation of being overshadowed by jealousy.

He raised his voice. "Hermione, he's a Slytherin! And most importantly, he is a Malfoy! Don't forget, his father is a Death Eater! Most Death Eaters and Dark Wizards graduated from Slytherin. Ever since you went to that stupid class he organized, you seem to have been brainwashed by them, always singing Malfoy's praises!"

"Alright, both of you, can you give me some peace for a moment?" Harry whispered.

Ron's voice lowered, and an awkward silence settled in the room.

Harry didn't comprehend what was happening between Ron and Hermione.

Instead of discussing their well-being, they were deliberating on whether Skyler's Patronus had been effective.

Even though Harry didn't share a close friendship with Skyler, he recognized that Skyler's Patronus had saved him from sustaining severe injuries.

He had no desire to speak ill of Skyler behind his back.

"Leave the Dementors for now. Has anyone found my Firebolt?" Harry inquired.

"Well, when you fell, it got knocked away. It hit the Whomping Willow," Hermione hesitated, then added, "Professor Flitwick just retrieved it." She reached for her bag, upending it to reveal the contents.

A dozen shards of wood and the remains of Harry's broom tail scattered on the bed. This was all that remained of his beloved Firebolt.

The trio fell into a somber silence.