At this very moment, there weren't just dozens of those foul creatures; there were at least a hundred of them! They drifted silently beneath the Quidditch pitch. The players, who had gathered on the field, quickly mounted their brooms and soared into the sky, trying to get away from them.
However, because the Dementors were present, they were still bound by the rules of the match and couldn't simply leave the field. This meant they had to try and continue playing while also avoiding the Dementors. Their flying formations became chaotic, even distorted. Dylan noticed that Harry, of course, was the most affected. Facing Dementors always caused a powerful reaction in him, and it seemed even more intense than when he encountered them on the Hogwarts Express last time.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. He had given Harry an amulet before. With the amulet, it wasn't that most Dementors wouldn't bother Harry, but at least Harry's own state of mind would be a little calmer because of it. But it seemed Harry hadn't worn the amulet Dylan gave him, likely because he was playing in the match.
Hermione, standing in front of Dylan, looked incredibly anxious. "I feel like Harry..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Harry plummeted straight off his broom. His broom spun wildly in the air, its fine bristles at the end whipped and bent by the strong winds, before it shot down into the churning rain, leaving only a few fleeting trails that quickly vanished without a trace.
"Ah!" Hermione shrieked, her scream piercing through the downpour. "Save him, quick!"
Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly and raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
In an instant, silvery-white substance erupted. The Dementors on the field seemed to tremble violently, startled by this power. The black mist beneath their cloaks churned wildly, their bodies twisting as they desperately retreated. A silver flash passed, and a Poro wearing a Pixiu-themed outfit leaped out from the light. It was round and rather cute. It shot straight onto the field, circling the unconscious Harry and stopping his descent.
Just then, an even more powerful force swept through – it was a spell cast by Dumbledore. As the old headmaster angrily waved his wand, a silvery-white light exploded like surging ocean waves! Although no one saw the specific Patronus Dumbledore summoned, the sheer vastness of the silvery substance itself could be considered a Patronus. Compared to it, the silvery mist Dylan released instantly paled.
Dylan blinked. He had just summoned a Poro, so why did the Dementors look like they'd lost their parents? They didn't even have parents! It turned out it was because of the furious old Dumbledore. These Dementors possessed awareness and intelligence, and they could easily tell who was not to be messed with.
"Whoosh!" The enormous silver wave, carrying the force of thunder, violently tore at the Dementors and hurled them beyond the Hogwarts boundaries. As the wave swept past, Harry's body was also lifted. The Poro, which had been diligently raising its tiny paws to lift Harry, suddenly felt lighter above and paused in confusion. It innocently tilted its head up. It saw that the person its master told it to lift had been enveloped by another power and was being carried away.
The Pixiu-Poro blinked. It turned its head to look at Dylan. Dylan also waved his wand, retracting his power. The Poro immediately understood its master's meaning. It flew towards Dylan and finally vanished into the tip of his wand.
Hermione watched, stunned. "You... you can already summon a Patronus?!"
Dylan shrugged. "Yes." After this period of learning and experimentation, and a subtle shift in his mindset, he felt an increasing sense of inner joy. So now, he could summon a Patronus quite freely.
"Fudge, I think you've truly forgotten what I told you," Dumbledore muttered on the other side of the stands. As he turned after blasting all the Dementors away, his robes swirled with a sharp, almost biting, arc. Dumbledore looked at Harry, who had been brought over by his magic. His usually kindly face was now as if covered in ice. His lips were a flat line, devoid of any smile.
Thankfully, someone else had used the Patronus Charm just before he reacted, saving Harry. This meant Harry hadn't suffered any physical harm from falling from the sky, nor had he been overly affected by the Dementors, avoiding any psychological or mental trauma.
With all that had happened, the match naturally couldn't continue – or rather, it was already over. Because... Cedric already held a Golden Snitch in his hand.
Hufflepuff had won.
The players on the field also landed. Cedric's expression was still a bit bewildered. He didn't even know how he had caught the Golden Snitch. Harry had found it first, and was almost about to catch it, but then... Still, they had won. But given the current situation, did it truly count as a victory? Cedric's expression was somewhat lost.
The professors all gathered around Dumbledore. Dumbledore's eyes held a cold glint. His wand trembled slightly. Fine, silvery-blue ripples appeared in the air. A simple medical stretcher materialized instantly, floating in mid-air. Then, he used a spell to float Harry onto the stretcher. He then turned, and the stretcher naturally followed him.
"Carry on, Rolanda, do your job," Dumbledore said to Madam Hooch, who was standing nearby with a worried expression. "I'll take Harry for treatment. I'll leave things here to you."
Madam Hooch nodded. She quickly straightened her rain-soaked referee's robes. Then she raised her wand and amplified her voice. "Everyone, quiet down! No commotion! I now declare – Hufflepuff House has won this Quidditch match!"
As Madam Hooch's words fell, cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff team on the sidelines. But then, to everyone's surprise, Cedric leaped off his broom. Rain streamed down his golden hair and dripped from his jawline. He looked at Harry, being carried away on the stretcher in the distance. The joy of victory had slowly cooled in the cold rain. After a moment of silence, Cedric took a deep breath. He took three quick, steady steps and walked to Madam Hooch.
Madam Hooch paused. "What is it?"
"Madam Hooch, as the Hufflepuff team captain, representing Hufflepuff, I request a rematch!" Cedric's voice was clear even in the downpour.
Madam Hooch was taken aback again. "Why?"
"Potter fell because of the Dementors' interference, as everyone saw. I believe a true match shouldn't end this way. Gryffindor deserves a fair contest, and the honor of Quidditch should not be tarnished." With that, he bowed slightly, quietly waiting for Madam Hooch's response.
His decision slowly silenced the cheering Hufflepuff team. They exchanged glances. But in the end, no one stopped Cedric's idea. No one raised any objections.
However, while Hufflepuff had no objections, Madam Hooch couldn't help but feel a bit troubled. As a referee, she had already announced the result. Although it was only the first match and not representative of the entire season, she had never encountered such a situation in her previous refereeing career. If Hufflepuff hadn't made this decision, it would have been fine. But with the winning Hufflepuff team requesting a rematch, she wasn't sure if she should announce another game. After all... the rules of Quidditch did not specify what to do when a player affected by Dementors in a match ultimately loses due to their influence, and how to properly arrange things to maintain as much fairness as possible.
Madam Hooch's wand spun half a turn on her fingertips, then stopped. Rain streamed down the brim of her referee's hat, hitting below her hesitant gaze. Just as she was about to speak, Wood suddenly pushed through the crowd and strode forward. His soaked Gryffindor robes were still dripping water. He swallowed with difficulty, forced a smile uglier than a cry, but his voice was crystal clear.
"Madam Hooch, I don't think a rematch is necessary. Hufflepuff won fair and square." As he said this, his knuckles, gripping his old broomstick, were white. The moisture clinging to his eyelashes was either raindrops or tears, it was impossible to tell.
"I think even Harry would want us to... abide by the rules." Wood let out a heavy sigh. The wind carried the damp air, scattering his breath. The boy's trembling shoulders and resolute words formed a stark contrast.
Madam Hooch looked steadily at Wood. Then she looked at Cedric, who was also stunned in place. Finally, she pursed her lips and nodded gently. "Very well, you've done well. In that case, the match result will stand as declared."
Madam Hooch waved her wand again, her voice echoing throughout the Quidditch pitch. "Hufflepuff wins! Now, everyone listen up! Gryffindor students go first, back to the castle! Then Hufflepuff, and finally Slytherin and Ravenclaw. No pushing, return in an orderly fashion! All prefects, lead your students, ensure no stampedes!"
Madam Hooch directed the situation on the field, quickly organizing the chaotic scene into orderly lines. The rain still poured, but under Madam Hooch's calm arrangements, the students began to trudge through the puddles, wrapping their cloaks tightly, and walking towards the castle in single file.
Soon, the Quidditch pitch was mostly empty. Wood, however, remained standing in the middle of the soaked lawn, letting the rain drench his scarlet robes. He lifted his head, gazing at the churning dark clouds. Raindrops fell in streaks from his eyelashes. It was impossible to tell what was salty tears and what was rain.
The other Gryffindor Quidditch players hadn't left either. Their captain hadn't left, so how could they? But they didn't approach Wood. They just stood at a distance, huddled under umbrellas, their eyes filled with worry as they watched their captain. No one knew better than them how many days and nights Wood had spent on the training pitch for this match, and how hard he had pushed them. Everyone was exhausted from his training – but their captain was just as tired, if not more so.
In the stands, Hermione and Ron paused, wanting to leave to check on Harry, but unsure if they should leave now. Dylan shook his head. "Don't worry. I think he'll come to terms with it. You two go back and see how Harry is. I'll check on Wood." Hermione and the others exchanged glances, then nodded and hurried away from the stands.
Dylan also walked down to the field. As he got closer, Fred finally took a few steps forward and stood beside Wood. "We're only a hundred points behind."
Beside Fred, George mirrored his movements. He also nodded. "Yeah, if Ravenclaw can beat Hufflepuff..."
"And we win the remaining two matches! Beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin—"
"We'll still be the ultimate winners!" Fred and George spoke simultaneously. They stood next to Wood. Their palms met, the crisp sound even penetrating the rain. Then, the two cautiously looked at Wood. But he still only presented them with a statue-like back. This usually energetic captain now seemed bound by a Freezing Charm, as if even the edges of his robes were frozen in the wind.
Fred nudged Dylan with his elbow. George also used his eyes to ask Dylan what to do now. Dylan shrugged. Some obsessions were like swords being tempered. The more scarred they were, the more they had to hold onto their purity amidst regret. "I think he's not drowning in sorrow, but waiting for belief to be reborn in the ruins."
Fred and George paused. "What do you mean?"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "I mean, go prepare some stimulating potions and ginger tea. The way he is, he'll definitely have a fever tomorrow morning. You don't want your captain to become a hothead, do you?"
"Huh?!" Fred and George jolted. Then they quickly ran towards the castle. Dylan also shook his head, following the last of the crowd towards the castle. As he passed the other Gryffindor team members, he casually added, "Didn't any of you think to use a spell to stop the rain from hitting him?"
Finally, someone reacted. Oh right, if the captain was getting drenched, couldn't they just stop the rain? What were they doing standing there getting drenched with him?