The once lively Quidditch pitch was suddenly shrouded in an eerie silence.
Rain pellets the size of beans smashed against the ground, splashing up water half a foot high, yet not a single sound could be heard.
Lightning streaked across the sky like silver serpents, illuminating the entire pitch, but the thunderclap that should have followed was like a drum stuffed with cotton, muffled and swallowed by the void.
The howling wind carried the damp scent of earth, whipping the flags at the pitch's edge until they fluttered wildly, yet that roaring sound seemed devoured by an invisible barrier.
Only an unnerving silence remained, as if someone had pressed stop on a playing film, cutting off all sound abruptly.
In the spectator stands, Sherlock, who had remained calm throughout, suddenly shot to his feet.
His gray eyes contracted sharply as in the distance, clusters of black shadows like wind-scattered fog were surging toward the pitch from all directions.
Dementors!
Over a hundred Dementors had appeared at the pitch!
Sherlock knew full well that such numbers meant every Dementor guarding the school had come out in force.
He had once faced a Dementor directly. Recalling that moment on the Hogwarts Express, just a single Dementor had instantly drained all warmth from that train compartment.
Cold crept up his spine like a venomous snake, leaving nearly everyone paralyzed and trapped in extreme terror.
Now, with over a hundred Dementors appearing together, the bone-chilling aura they emanated multiplied exponentially. Wherever they went, the air itself seemed frozen, for the entire school's staff and students, it was like being thrust into a horror film.
Remembering Harry's particular sensitivity to Dementors, Sherlock immediately shifted his gaze.
Sure enough, Harry merely glanced down, and his body went limp, toppling headfirst from his flying broomstick and plummeting toward the ground.
The unmanned Nimbus 2000 was caught by the fierce wind and, like a falling leaf, vanished from sight in the blink of an eye.
"This is outrageous!"
In that moment, Sherlock became uncharacteristically furious.
While recalling the joy he felt when solving puzzles, using that warmth to dispel the bone-piercing cold and negative emotions brought by the Dementors, he vaulted over the students in the stands who sat frozen like wooden chickens, completely engulfed by fear, and charged swiftly toward the pitch like an agile lion.
However, someone was even faster than Sherlock.
Albus Dumbledore.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts once again demonstrated why he was the greatest wizard of the age.
No one saw where he had been standing, but in an instant, he had already appeared on the field.
The hundred-plus Dementors seemed to have no effect on him at all.
He first waved his wand in Harry's direction, and as if held by an invisible giant hand, Harry's descent immediately slowed.
Then he turned his wand toward the Dementors. The silver light erupting from his wand tip instantly illuminated the entire gloomy sky, as if tearing open the dark curtain shrouding Hogwarts.
As Sherlock ran, he noticed the light condensing in the air like liquid moonlight, forming into a massive phoenix.
The moment the silver phoenix took shape, it spread its wings and blocked the Dementor horde.
The Dementors recoiled as if confronting their natural predator and immediately fled the pitch.
Before the frozen chill in the air had fully dissipated, Sherlock had already splashed through the mud into the Quidditch pitch.
When he saw Harry lying on the ground, his eyes reddened slightly, and his fists clenched.
Forcibly suppressing these emotions that might cloud his judgment, he immediately crouched down to examine Harry.
Soon, he looked up at Dumbledore: "No life-threatening injuries, but broken bones."
His voice was calm, yet laced with suppressed anger.
Dumbledore's fury appeared even greater than Sherlock's.
After the Dementors left, the school's staff and students finally regained their mobility.
For the students, they had never seen Dumbledore this angry before.
In their minds, Dumbledore was always a kindly old man with a warm smile.
Compared to him, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall seemed more befitting of a headmaster's authority.
But now, this usually composed and calm headmaster stood with his robes curling, his silver beard trembling violently in the wind, and rare fury burning in the eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.
"They actually entered the school grounds!"
He stared in the direction the Dementors had fled and said angrily, "Without my permission, these hooded b—"
Realizing his loss of composure, Dumbledore took a deep breath, then waved his wand. A stretcher flew over from somewhere.
Harry's body floated onto the stretcher.
"Let's go."
Dumbledore spoke, and Sherlock nodded. The two walked together, taking Harry to the hospital wing.
"We request a rematch!"
Diggory's somewhat anxious voice came from behind, but at this moment, Sherlock had no time to pay attention.
Even he hadn't expected that with the threat of Sirius Black barely emerging, the Dementors who were supposed to stop Black and protect them would become an even greater threat.
"Sir, why did they appear here?"
Walking alongside Dumbledore, Sherlock suddenly asked.
"They were hungry."
Dumbledore's voice carried a bitter tone. "I insisted they not enter the school, so their source of prey dried up."
"Prey... meaning positive emotions?"
"Yes, Dementors are among the foulest creatures in the world. They infest darkness and despair, draining peace, hope, and happiness from the surrounding air."
"I thought keeping them out of the school would prevent them from threatening you all. Now I see I was wrong, terribly wrong."
At this point, Dumbledore sighed deeply. "They couldn't resist the temptation of that large crowd around the Quidditch pitch. For them, the excitement and heightened emotions were an absolute feast."
The two had now reached the hospital wing.
"Poppy, look at this boy."
"Oh, Merlin's beard!"
Madam Pomfrey immediately rushed over and began examining him carefully.
Soon, she breathed a long sigh of relief:
"Nothing too serious, I can fix him up quickly, though he'll need to stay in the hospital wing this weekend for observation."
Hearing Madam Pomfrey's words, Dumbledore nodded with relief, then looked at Sherlock with grave eyes:
"I'm counting on you, Sherlock. Please find Black as quickly as possible. Whatever help you need, just ask."
Clearly, after last year's Chamber of Secrets incident, Dumbledore had truly changed as he'd promised, he would no longer hide crucial information based on his own subjective judgment, as demonstrated by his telling Sherlock and Harry about the events of twelve years ago after Halloween.
For Sherlock, this was naturally a good thing. As long as he could obtain sufficient information, he could see through appearances to the essence.
"I will. But compared to Black, I think the Dementors pose a more immediate threat."
Sherlock glanced at the still-unconscious Harry and frowned. "Although I don't understand why Harry reacts more strongly to Dementors than others, this is a reality we must face."
"What are you thinking, Sherlock?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Sir, if you truly regard him as the wizarding world's savior, an indispensable part of defeating Voldemort, then you need to teach Harry how to defend against Dementors."
Sherlock spoke bluntly. "The spell you just used, the Patronus Charm."
"You actually heard that?"
Dumbledore looked surprised. In such chaotic circumstances, Sherlock had actually heard him speak the incantation?
"No, I heard Professor Lupin say it when he drove off the Dementor on the train."
Dumbledore understood, but still looked at him approvingly.
"Your powers of observation are as keen as ever. However, this spell is extremely advanced magic for a third-year student. It's far beyond ordinary wizard level, many accomplished adult wizards haven't mastered it."
"Whether he can or not, we'll only know by trying. I believe Harry would be willing to learn."
Looking at Sherlock's determined gaze, then at Harry lying in bed, Dumbledore thought briefly before agreeing.
"Very well, I'll make arrangements. However, I'd like you to learn alongside Harry."
"Of course. I was already very interested in it."
"I'll go speak with those Dementors now."
Dumbledore said slowly, "I need them to promise they'll never enter the school again, Poppy, please come with me."
The moment Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey left, a group of people burst in.
Sherlock's gaze swept over them, identifying all the Gryffindor Quidditch team members except Wood, along with some non-team members: Hermione, Ron, Cho Chang, Luna, and Ginny.
The blue of Cho Chang and Luna stood out particularly among the sea of red.
Everyone was covered head to toe in mud, looking as if they'd just crawled out of a swimming pool.
"Sherlock, is Harry all right?"
Ron asked cautiously first.
"Nothing serious," Sherlock repeated what Madam Pomfrey had said. "Though he'll need to stay here this weekend."
Hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Things they hadn't dared say before finally came out:
"Thank goodness the ground was so soft."
"No, it was all Headmaster Dumbledore using magic to slow his fall."
"I thought he was surely dead."
"Surprisingly, not even his glasses broke."
"That's the most terrifying thing I've seen in my life—"
Alicia's words resonated with everyone.
Over a hundred Dementors!
When had they ever witnessed such a scene?
It was practically like visiting Azkaban.
Just as they were about to discuss this further, Harry, who had been lying in bed, suddenly sat bolt upright, startling everyone.
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