While Wayne took action, the professors weren't idle spectators either.
Seeing Harry safely caught, Professor McGonagall immediately aimed her wand at the Dementors, preparing to join Professor Flitwick in casting the Patronus Charm to drive them away.
But at that moment, an earth-shaking draconic roar interrupted their spellcasting – and jolted every panicking student to attention.
As fear receded, all eyes turned towards the Hufflepuff stands.
There stood Wayne, his dark hair whipping in the wind, body enveloped in brilliant silver-white light that coalesced and shot skyward within seconds.
Every gaze locked onto the spectacle, witnessing with speechless awe as the luminous mass took definitive shape.
The creature's head alone left no doubt – this was undeniably a dragon.
Yet its body wasn't as bloated as a fire dragon's, instead appearing slender and graceful, with four short draconic limbs brimming with powerful elegance.
Most captivating were the countless shimmering stars within this peculiar dragon's form, resembling a miniature cosmos that dazzled the eyes.
"It's appeared! Wayne's Patronus!"
Ron shouted excitedly, his enthusiasm matched only by the hidden Malfoy.
Back in the Forbidden Forest, this bizarrely shaped Patronus had crushed the mysterious Dark Wizard. From that day onward, Malfoy truly understood Wayne's power, abandoning all pure-blood arrogance in his presence.
"Go on," Wayne said coldly, his eyes glinting. "Have yourself some fun."
"Roar!"
Another draconic cry echoed as the Starforger Dragon Patronus moved, its massive form streaking through the air, trailing starlight, charging straight towards hundreds of Dementors with claws outstretched!
Instantly, swathes of Dementors were crushed into puffs of black smoke under its grasp.
Witnessing their companions' annihilation, the remaining Dementors unleashed their full ferocity. Having left Azkaban and lingered near Hogwarts without stable sustenance, their already scant rationality had long since dissolved into hunger-driven madness.
A dark tide surged as hundreds of Dementors blanketed the sky, emitting eerie, piercing shrieks while charging the dragon. Their freezing aura could solidify air itself. Hoods thrown back revealed featureless faces bearing only gaping black voids.
Crack!
Another mighty tail swipe obliterated a dozen more Dementors. The Starforger Dragon Patronus moved with cloud-traversing agility, its nimble form weaving through the dark swarm, each motion claiming clusters of Dementors.
Soon, the horde lay decimated, genuine fear taking root. This bore no resemblance to the Patronuses in their memory—those merely provoked instinctive revulsion, making them flee. But this one... sought their annihilation!
Survival instinct overcame hunger and rage as the Dementors scattered in panicked retreat.
Luna's wide eyes weren't fixed on the dragon's spectacular Dementor hunt, but rather on Wayne.
In her vision, the sun and stars appeared simultaneously upon the boy for the very first time.
Luna suddenly felt an impulse – she wanted to transform into a firefly, throwing herself recklessly towards Wayne just to bask in that fleeting warmth.
Meanwhile, the other young wizards were utterly immersed in the overwhelming power of the Starforger Patronus.
They finally understood why Wayne could create such potent magical artefacts like the Patronus brooch.
This Patronus that slaughtered Dementors like ants – even a fraction of its power would be enough to protect them.
"Mr Lawrence! That's enough!"
"Stop now!"
Professor McGonagall pressed her wand to her throat, amplifying her voice across the entire pitch.
After the brief shock, seeing swathes of Dementors being annihilated, she knew this couldn't continue. Too many Dementor deaths would cause major complications, so she hurriedly intervened.
In mere moments, the once sea-like swarm of Dementors had significantly diminished.
"Understood," Wayne replied calmly, yet his finger twitched slightly.
The Starforger Patronus extended its dragon claw once more. A tremendous gravitational force erupted as swirling stardust condensed into a black hole between its fingers, sucking in over a dozen nearby Dementors before crushing them in its palm.
Professor McGonagall's eyelid twitched violently.
Fortunately, having completed this final act, the Starforger Patronus ceased its Dementor hunt. With a mighty roar, it soared into the darkened sky, shattering the thunderclouds before dissipating completely.
The young wizards tilted their heads upwards, bathing in the sunlight that poured down once more, as if awakening from a dream.
"Wayne drove away the Dementors~!"
Someone initiated the first cheer, and soon the Quidditch pitch transformed into a sea of jubilation, with everyone chanting Wayne's name.
"Wayne, you're amazing!" Astoria, being closest, threw herself into Wayne's arms, her small face flushed crimson.
Had there not been so many people around, she might have taken even bolder action.
"Godfather, teach me that Patronus!"
Cedric gazed skyward, seemingly reliving the Starforger Patronus' magnificent display.
So unbelievably cool!
"We'll discuss it later," Wayne said, patting Astoria's back before gently disentangling himself. "First, let's check on Harry."
Wayne descended from the stands onto the pitch, where Professor McGonagall also hurried over to examine Harry's condition.
Confirming he still breathed, they sighed in relief.
As long as there was breath, Madam Pomfrey could heal him.
At the crowd's rear, hearing Professor McGonagall's assessment, Malfoy curled his lip disdainfully before leaving with his broom.
Observing Harry's hand still clutching the Golden Snitch in a death grip, Professor McGonagall's lips quirked upwards momentarily before she turned to Wayne.
"Mr Lawrence, didn't I just instruct you to stop?"
"My apologies, Professor," Wayne adopted a sorrowful expression. "Seeing Harry nearly fall to his death... I couldn't suppress my fury. In my heart, Harry is like a brother to me – though we share neither father nor mother."
"Those Dementors harmed Harry, then tried attacking my friends. How could I possibly tolerate that?"
Witnessing Wayne's genuine emotion, not just Professor McGonagall but all the young wizards were deeply moved.
"Professor, don't blame Wayne!"
"Exactly, he was protecting us."
"Who cares about dead Dementors? I'm writing to complain to the Ministry right now."
"Exactly, together! I've got Howlers, who wants one? Free of charge!"
"Give me a dozen!"
Everyone clamoured to plead for Wayne's case, though the conversation soon veered off course into discussing how to file complaints against the Ministry of Magic.
On this matter, they all had ample experience.
Professor McGonagall looked torn between laughter and exasperation as she raised her voice, "Who said I was blaming Mr Lawrence? I merely hope he won't be so impulsive next time."
"One hundred points to Hufflepuff! Now, everyone, disperse. I need to take Potter to the hospital wing immediately."
"Mr Lawrence, come with me."
As the crowd dispersed, Professor McGonagall levitated Harry while Wood and other Quidditch team members tried to follow, only to be sent away.
...
Second-floor hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey began complaining the moment she saw unconscious Harry.
"I've always said Quidditch is a dangerous sport that should be banned. Why can't they use that time to learn some medical knowledge instead?"
"Poppy," said Professor McGonagall, the ardent Quidditch fan, somewhat displeased, "This wasn't Quidditch's fault. Dementors suddenly invaded the school grounds. Potter was affected by them."
"Those disgusting creatures?" Madam Pomfrey's expression turned to revulsion. "Dumbledore's greatest mistake this year was allowing Dementors to be stationed around the school."
Professor McGonagall gave an almost imperceptible nod, privately agreeing with her.
As she spoke, Madam Pomfrey produced a bottle of pitch-black potion and poured it into Harry's mouth. The mere smell of it made Wayne cover his nose.
Absolutely revolting.
Yet the effects were immediate - Harry coughed violently twice before groggily regaining consciousness.
Wayne strongly suspected he'd woken purely from the shock of that dreadful taste.
"Nothing serious, just excessive mental exhaustion. Two days' rest and he'll be ready for discharge."
"Don't stay too long either - what he needs now is sleep."
With that, Madam Pomfrey left, giving Harry time to orient himself.
"Professor... did we win?" His first words concerned the match's outcome.
Professor McGonagall pointed to his still-clenched hand: "The Golden Snitch remains in your grasp, so of course we won."
She allowed a small smile. "Two hundred and eighty to twenty - a decisive victory."
"Brilliant." A faint colour returned to Harry's pale face. "Those Dementors... why did they appear suddenly?"
"Because they were hungry." Mention of Dementors visibly angered Professor McGonagall. "Dementors feed on happy emotions. The stadium's atmosphere was too joyous, so they came."
Her expression turned grave. "Potter, while I always want Gryffindor to win, this was too dangerous. Had Mr Lawrence not caught you and driven away those Dementors, the consequences don't bear thinking about."
Even now, the memory made her shudder.
Hundreds of Dementors! Even with the Patronus Charm, protecting so many young wizards across such a vast area left too much room for error.
"If you encounter Dementors again, you run as far as possible, understood?" After this final admonishment, Professor McGonagall led Wayne away.
Watching their retreating figures, Harry's elation evaporated.
Dementors again...
Were those creatures his nemesis?
This marked his second fainting episode already....
...
Outside, Professor McGonagall led Wayne into her office.
"Lawrence, we owe you our thanks today," McGonagall said gratefully. "This time, we must demand an explanation from the Ministry of Magic. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Professor," Wayne lowered his head in thought for a moment. "I think Headmaster Dumbledore should handle this, don't you?"
He wore a fearful expression. "After all, over a hundred Dementors died. I'm afraid the Ministry might come after me."
"You could write to him, couldn't you?"
"Indeed," Professor McGonagall nodded firmly, agreeing with Wayne's reasoning.
Speaking of Dumbledore, she was currently seething with anger.
Though she knew Dumbledore must have been occupied with extremely important matters to have been absent from the school for so long...
But you're the Headmaster.
Aren't the safety and education of the students the top priority?
Having initially hesitated to disturb Dumbledore, she now resolved: "I'll write to him immediately. We can't let this slide."
Wayne perked up. "While you're writing, I have something to pass along to the Headmaster. Could you send it for me?"
Professor McGonagall didn't refuse.
Wayne dashed out, returned to his dormitory to fetch the item, then hurried back to McGonagall's office.
"What's this?" McGonagall eyed the small box he carried with curiosity.
"A little gift," Wayne replied shyly. "The Headmaster must be exhausted from his travels. This will refresh his spirits and bring colour to his cheeks."
"That's very thoughtful of you," McGonagall said approvingly.
What a good boy.
She fastened Wayne's 'gift' to the owl's leg and watched it fly away.
...
St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Fifth Floor: Spell Damage Ward.
Dumbledore sat by a patient's bedside, engaging in conversation.
But the patient spoke incoherently, and after much rambling discussion, Dumbledore had gleaned no useful information.
The man was called Charles, a former Auror who had investigated a case many years prior.
Hepzibah Smith's house-elf had poisoned its mistress—an apparently straightforward case of house-elf rebellion. Yet Dumbledore had detected traces of Tom's involvement, sensing something amiss.
Unfortunately, the case was too old. The investigating Auror, Charles, now suffered from dementia. Even Dumbledore, a master of memory, struggled to reconstruct the events.
He could only painstakingly gather fragments of useful information.
After a while, Charles fell asleep. Dumbledore rose wearily and moved to the adjacent ward to visit another pair of patients.
Seeing Dumbledore enter, the middle-aged couple in the ward smiled vacantly. The woman extended a hand holding a sweet.
Dumbledore's heart clenched.
Frank Longbottom. Alice Longbottom.
They were Neville's parents. Once, they too had been Aurors—founding members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Heroes who fell just before dawn. After Voldemort's disappearance, the Longbottoms had been captured by Death Eaters and subjected to unspeakable torture until they were broken beyond repair.
Young Neville had witnessed it all. To spare him these horrific memories, his grandmother had performed a Memory Charm on him.
Perhaps it was due to a lack of skill, or perhaps a child's mind was simply too fragile, but Neville's forgetfulness was a lingering aftereffect from that time.
Dumbledore remained silent, simply sitting between the Longbottoms and handing them a few sweets.
Life was too bitter; one could only console oneself by indulging in sweets.
Just then, an owl suddenly flew through the window and landed beside him.
Dumbledore frowned, retrieving the envelope and small box.
He opened the letter first, reading it word by word. Soon, his expression grew extremely grim, his snow-white beard stirring without wind.
A fire of fury simmered in his chest.
Dementors had dared to swarm into the school grounds and nearly killed Harry?!
The Longbottoms sensed the shift in the old man's demeanour and stared at him in alarm.
"Forgive me, Frank, Alice. I didn't mean to startle you," Dumbledore said apologetically before striding swiftly out of the ward.
He read the letter again, and only after confirming that Harry and the other students were unharmed did his anger subside slightly.
Then he opened the small box.
Inside was a metal plate. Dumbledore recognised it at once as an alchemical device and quickly found the activation method.
A voice echoed out.
"There's no need for excessive worry. The Dementors will not enter the school. As long as everyone follows the rules, daily life will remain unchanged."
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore seemed to have been struck by a Freezing Charm, his body utterly still.
Yet his breathing grew increasingly ragged.
These were the very words he had spoken during the start-of-term feast.
The metal plate repeated them over and over.
With each repetition, Dumbledore felt as though his face had been slapped.
His entire visage had become... radiantly flushed.
"Fawkes!"
A burst of orange-red flame erupted as Fawkes materialised, alighting upon Dumbledore's shoulder.
In the next instant, both man and bird vanished from the corridors of St Mungo's Hospital.
Not in all these years – not even upon learning of Tom's resurrection or Voldemort's division – had he felt such fury as today.
Did the Ministry of Magic truly hold its Headmaster in such contempt?
Today, he would demand answers from Fudge!