Dementors Crash the Match, the Shattered Nimbus 2000

"I… I don’t know?" Hermione’s face flushed red. It was the first time she had ever said she didn’t know in class, but she truly had no idea what to do.

The thought of a friend or close family member becoming a werewolf was chilling enough.

Perhaps Neville’s approach was right. In that situation, running away might be the best choice.

"Looks like know-it-all doesn’t know everything after all." Snape spoke with a sneer. "Gaius, you answer."

The corner of Aaron’s mouth twitched. He forced a smile. "Well… personally, I think you should cripple it so the werewolf is no longer a threat."

"Did you hear that? That is the standard answer."

"Professor…" Hermione hesitated. "We might not be able to defeat a werewolf."

"Then you need to think carefully about the gap between yourselves and others," Snape said as if it were only natural. "Hand in an essay by next Monday. Two rolls of parchment, on werewolves, with particular emphasis on how to identify and kill them…"

"But Quidditch is tomorrow," Harry could not help interjecting.

It was Friday. He had to train overtime today, and tomorrow was Saturday, when he would officially play in the match. That meant he had only one day to write his homework.

And besides Snape’s two rolls of parchment, he had homework from other classes as well. Unless he could split himself in two, there was no way he could finish it all.

Snape suddenly leaned close to Harry’s face and said coldly, "Then I suggest you take especially good care of yourself, Mr. Potter. Even if you lose an arm or a leg, you will still have to write your essay.

Now turn to page three hundred and ninety-four. The word werewolf is composed of two Anglo-Saxon words, wer and wulf…"

After class, everyone else left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Aaron watched Snape pack up the equipment in speechless frustration. "Professor, you really can be boring sometimes, you know?"

"Oh? You think I should not teach them how to deal with werewolves?"

"No, that is still necessary.

There is a ticking time bomb in the school. Teaching the students how to dismantle a bomb is only natural." Aaron gave a wry smile. "What I mean is, making someone who does not want to answer questions answer one is a bit too much."

"That is a teacher’s privilege. You can choose not to answer too." Snape shook his head calmly. "As long as you say ‘I don’t know,’ like Miss Granger."

Aaron: …

The next day, the weather was even worse than expected.

The wind howled, thunder rumbled, and rain poured down in sheets.

Such weather was oppressive even indoors, yet the Quidditch pitch was packed with people. Teachers and students from the entire school were watching the match amid this thrilling, tense atmosphere.

Gryffindor against Hufflepuff.

The red and yellow figures were especially blurry through the curtain of rain. Wind and rain greatly affected every player, making Flying Broomsticks harder to control than usual.

Aaron sheltered beneath a large umbrella while Abei held a fruit platter and happily waved its paws.

"Watching a match in this environment really has its own flavor!" Aaron said with feeling. "It’s incredible. This is practically hell mode."

"Good thing my hand was injured. Otherwise, Slytherin would be the one out there right now." Draco smirked maliciously. "Look at Potter. He’s wearing glasses. I seriously doubt he can even see his own teammates."

"I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Hermione cast a spell on his glasses, so the rain cannot block his vision."

"That’s fine too." Draco did not care. "He’s already drenched like a rat. You do not get to see something like this every day.

Gryffindor is leading now, but if no one catches the Snitch, the match probably will not end even by tonight."

Crack!

A bolt of lightning suddenly tore through the sky and struck Gryffindor Chaser Angelina’s broomstick.

Flames burst from the broom’s tail. She clutched the handle desperately and tried to make an emergency landing, but she still crashed uncontrollably toward the stands.

At the critical moment, Harry rode his Nimbus 2000 into her, knocking her into the crowd and barely saving her life.

Afterward, he immediately adjusted his course and flew toward the sky.

A Hufflepuff player was about to catch the Golden Snitch, but the heavens refused to cooperate. A bolt of lightning struck, passing through the Snitch and hitting him.

Both the Hufflepuff House Team and Gryffindor House Team had lost one player, evening their numbers once more.

Watching the yellow figure fall toward the ground beside him, Harry froze for several seconds, at a loss for what to do.

At that moment, the outline of a black dog vaguely appeared among the clouds, illuminated brightly by lightning before vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he chased after the Snitch.

He flew higher and higher, drawing closer and closer to it.

But gradually, he felt a bone-chilling cold. A black-robed figure flew toward him, and as it approached, a layer of frost formed over the Nimbus 2000.

A Dementor!

Harry’s heart jumped. He did not understand why Dementors had appeared here, but thinking of the earlier appearance of The Grim, he knew he had to leave the high altitude immediately.

But after flying for only a few seconds, he tragically discovered that he was surrounded. Hundreds of Dementors occupied the area. He narrowly dodged one, then two, then three, but as the fourth Dementor brushed past him, it opened its disgusting mouth and made a wheezing sound.

The familiar terror washed over him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut in agony, his hands unconsciously loosening as his whole body fell from the sky. Before losing consciousness, he vaguely saw how his parents had been murdered.

The people in the stands noticed the Dementors, but everything had happened in a flash. Before they could react, they saw a red figure in free fall.

"Isn’t this an extreme sport?!

I was absolutely right not to join the Quidditch team." Aaron sucked in a cold breath, then drew his Wand and aimed it at the rapidly falling Harry Potter.

White light flashed over Harry’s body, and his descent slowed somewhat.

"What did you do?" Draco asked curiously.

"Nothing much. I just cast a protection spell on him and changed his accelerated fall into uniform motion." Aaron explained simply. "That is all I can do for him. I trust the others will not just stand by and watch."

As he spoke, he looked toward the teachers’ seats.

If a third-year student like him could act in time, there was no reason the professors would fail to react.

Dumbledore stood up. He did not use a Wand; he merely spoke a cushioning and slowing spell at Harry, ensuring his safety.

Then he cast the Patronus Charm toward the sky, driving away every Dementor.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. He was confident that he could handle hundreds of Dementors too, but he could not do it as effortlessly as Dumbledore, as though he had merely cast a simple Levitation Charm, with almost no expenditure at all.

Dumbledore seemed to notice something as well. From dozens of meters away, he looked at Aaron and gave him a kind smile.

Aaron had not felt cold before, but that smile made him shudder involuntarily.

The Quidditch match did not stop because of this accident, but Gryffindor had lost its most crucial Seeker, so the outcome was no longer in doubt.

Hufflepuff won the match. Cedric caught the Golden Snitch, but he did not feel that he had won and instead requested another fair rematch. Wood refused him.

"I suddenly rather admire that senior," Aaron said with a smile. "Flint and the others should really learn from him."

"Give me a break!" Draco shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, it would already be a miracle if Slytherin managed to go two years without breaking the rules."

Aaron sighed softly. "I’m going to see Harry Potter."

"I’m coming too," Draco said excitedly.

"No, you can’t." Aaron immediately stopped him. "Going now would be like rubbing salt into his wounds. You’d drive him mad."

Draco hesitated for a moment, then nodded regretfully. "Then help me pass on a message. Don’t forget the Defense Against the Dark Arts homework."

"Are you a demon?" Aaron rolled his eyes, then picked up Abei and hurried toward the School Hospital.

By the time he arrived, Harry was already awake. The Weasley siblings, Hermione, Neville, and other Gryffindors were gathered around his bed.

"Looks like you got lucky. You didn’t lose an arm or a leg," Aaron said slowly.

"Does that count as comfort?" Hermione shot him a glare. "The Gryffindor House Team lost. We lost to Hufflepuff."

"You fell from that height and were not seriously hurt. You should be secretly grateful. Why think about winning or losing?" Aaron said as he pulled out a packet of chocolate from Abei’s pocket. "You might need this."

"Thanks." Harry tore open the wrapper and ate a piece, barely feeling some of his strength return. "Wood must be really upset, right?"

"Yes." Fred looked regretful. "He had high hopes for this match, but he will not blame anyone. No one could have expected Dementors to suddenly enter the school."

"Dumbledore was furious. After saving you, he drove them away," Hermione said.

"You really should learn the Patronus Charm," Aaron reminded him. "There’s no time to waste."

"There is something else you should know." Ron hesitantly opened the cloth bundle in his arms, revealing the broomstick’s remains before Harry.

Crack!

Whether it was an illusion or not, everyone around the hospital bed seemed to hear the sound of a heart breaking.

"This thing… probably can’t be repaired, can it?" Aaron said with an awkward laugh. The Repair Charm was not all-powerful. It might have been manageable if it were an ordinary object, but a Flying Broomstick was a magical item. And smashed up like this, it could probably only be used as firewood.

"There was nothing we could do." Ron looked at Harry helplessly. "When you fell, it happened to be blown toward the Whomping Willow.

You know that tree. It doesn’t like being crashed into.

But all the pieces are here. Professor Flitwick was very careful when he collected them."

Harry looked at the dozen or so splinters and twigs, feeling his heart convulse as the light gradually faded from his eyes.

Quidditch was what he loved most, and this Flying Broomstick had been with him for two years. It was his most treasured possession and his best friend.

"That look is exactly like one of my friend’s. He looked like that when he was lost. If I had to describe it in one word, it would be dead inside."

As soon as he finished speaking, Aaron successfully earned everyone’s glares.

"Uh… there’s no need to be so pessimistic. I might be able to fix it."

"Really?" Harry urgently grabbed Aaron’s hands, a faint glimmer of light blooming in his vacant eyes.

"Hehe!" Aaron forced a smile and yanked his hands free. "I can only restore its original appearance. It will look fine, but it will be impossible for it to fly again.

In other words, it can only stay by your side as a toy model from now on."

Harry Potter: ???