"Harry!" A horrified scream burst from the stands.
Ginny's cry was the most piercing of all, her fingers digging hard into the wooden railing.
At that critical moment, Draco Malfoy, flying right behind Harry, witnessed everything.
The determined look on his face instantly twisted into shock and panic.
He saw Harry falling, and he also saw several Dementors swooping down greedily, their tattered cloaks parting to reveal skeletal hands as they lunged straight for the unconscious Harry Potter.
Malfoy's heart lurched violently. His fingers tightened and loosened around his broomstick handle, a flash of disgust and hesitation crossing his face.
But the next second, whether from some stubborn pride buried deep in his bones or a sudden, reckless impulse, he jammed the nose of his broom downward and dove after Harry.
"Damn it!"
The howling wind tore at his hair, and the rain blurred his vision.
In the stands, Dumbledore, his face ashen, had already stretched out his hand, and Harry's fall began to slow.
Just a second before Harry would have smashed into the muddy ground, Malfoy seized him by the back of the collar.
The broom let out a protesting groan, nearly pitching them both off.
Malfoy hauled Harry up roughly and slung him across his broomstick without care, his movements lacking any gentleness and carrying even a trace of revulsion.
Harry hung there limply, like a sack of potatoes draped over the broom, completely unconscious.
"You'd better not die before I defeat you! Or I'll kill you, Potter!"
Malfoy swore under his breath, then yanked his broom upward, pulling away from the ground while desperately dodging the Dementors pursuing him.
More Dementors poured into the stadium, their icy, despair-laden aura smothering the stands. Horrified screams rose and fell as the students descended into chaos.
At that moment of utter desperation, Sagres's voice cut through the downpour, echoing clearly across the stadium.
"Get out of here!"
His usual composure was gone, replaced by seething, icy fury.
He raised his hand, his wand pointing skyward, and a blazing light erupted at once.
The heavy rain stopped instantly. The dark clouds tore apart, revealing the Dementors concealed within, densely circling the sky.
At least a hundred Dementors.
What was truly terrifying was that they were not driven back. Instead, it was as if they had found a new prey.
Ignoring the deterrence of the Patronus Charms cast by several professors, they all shifted direction, like vultures sighting a corpse, and surged frantically toward Sagres, who stood exposed below.
They had chosen him as their new target.
Sagres's eyes shone with cold light. Faced with this unnatural siege, he did not retreat. Instead, a sneer curved his lips.
"Foolish creatures."
With a flick of his wand, a pale flame burst forth from its tip.
The flames had no heat, yet they radiated a terrifying magic capable of burning souls.
Several ravens formed from pale fire shrieked as they burst forth, striking the Dementors at the front with perfect accuracy.
The instant they made contact, the Dementors' tattered cloaks curled and melted like tar paper set alight.
Their hunched forms disintegrated at a visible speed within the flames, swiftly turning into wisps of foul-smelling black smoke that completely dispersed into the post-rain air.
At the same time, more fire ravens were born from the lingering embers, crisscrossing densely through the sky and weaving a blazing net of death.
The sight immediately shocked the Dementors hovering above.
Like chickens seized by the throat, they halted their charge abruptly, hesitating in midair.
Sagres's eyes were cold as he issued an unfeeling command to the fire ravens overhead.
"Kill them all."
He clearly had no intention of sparing these foolish, greedy dark creatures.
"Stop, Sagres."
Dumbledore's deep voice rang out. His silver-white hair and beard fluttered in the wind as a powerful magic spread across the entire stadium, attempting to suppress the destructive flames.
"They are collaborators of the Ministry of Magic. You cannot kill them at will."
Dumbledore stepped to Sagres's side, his tone low and grave.
Sagres slowly lowered his wand. The pale fire ravens in the sky seemed to be pressed down by an invisible giant hand, halting their flight and hanging motionless in the air.
He turned, his calm gaze fixing on Dumbledore.
"Is that so?"
His voice was not loud, yet it cut through every other sound, piercing Dumbledore like a blade and striking just as sharply at everyone in the shaken stands.
"Then tell me, Headmaster, when these 'collaborators' openly break into Hogwarts, attack my students, and even attempt to kill me, who should bear this responsibility?!"
He asked slowly, each word distinct. "You? Or the Ministry of Magic?"
The entire stadium fell silent.
Light flashed across Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles. "I understand your anger, Sagres. But we must consider—"
"Consider what?"
Sagres cut him off abruptly, his black robes whipping in the air. "Consider putting my power in a cage as well?"
His gaze swept across the stunned students in the stands. "Look at them, Albus. Look at their faces. Then tell me, what do you see there?"
Dumbledore and the other professors looked instinctively toward the students. The fear lingering on those young faces was unmistakable.
"This was an accident," Dumbledore said heavily. "Thankfully, we were present today, and no irreversible tragedy occurred."
"That is the root of the problem," Sagres said, a trace of disappointment entering his voice. "How many people in this world can stop hundreds of Dementors? And having the ability to resist them should never become a reason to be attacked."
"I will have the Ministry of Magic give you an explanation, Sagres," Dumbledore promised.
"You are wrong, Dumbledore." Sagres shook his head, his eyes cold and resolute. "It is not me who needs an explanation, but these students."
He raised his arm, pointing at the frightened faces in the stands, and then at Harry, who had been dragged back from the brink of death by Malfoy.
"The Ministry of Magic stationed more than a hundred mindless Dementors at this school, yet could not spare even a single clear-minded Auror. And you—"
His gaze locked onto Dumbledore again. "You actually agreed to this proposal that put every student here in danger."
Before he finished speaking, Sagres suddenly flicked his wand.
A piercing, shrill cry ripped through the sky.
All the fire ravens converged and fused together, and in the blink of an eye, a terrifying fire raven, as massive as a dragon, took shape. It surged upward with overwhelming force, charging straight into the clouds.
A scorching current swept across the sky.
Wherever the fire raven passed, several Dementors that were too slow to evade did not even have time to wail before being reduced to ash in the pale flames, leaving behind only wisps of acrid black smoke.
This single strike shattered the last remnants of "courage" among the remaining Dementors.
For the first time, they felt fear born from the depths of their own existence.
Like an ant colony doused with boiling water, the black shadows hovering above scattered instantly, fleeing in all directions, no longer daring to glance back at the sky over Hogwarts.
Madam Pomfrey seized the moment to rush onto the pitch, taking the unconscious Harry from Malfoy's trembling arms.
Malfoy collapsed into the mud, his face paler than ever.
He looked up at the colossal fire raven, a flicker of something like hope flashing in his eyes—until his gaze met the Slytherins in the stands, some of whom were staring at him as though he were a traitor.
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