A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 232: The Dementor's Presence

Professor Harp turned and left, saying he needed to ponder how to make the Ironclad Charm fit better, in his own words.

"It sounds like discussing how to resize a garment," Harry thought.

He saw the Gryffindor team members entering the Great Hall and hurried over. He had to grab something to eat now, even if it was just a bowl of porridge. In this dreadful weather, it was hard to predict when the match would take place.

...

Felix Harp wandered alone on the lawn. The weather was extremely gloomy, with dark clouds pressing low. Strong winds bent the trees, and he noticed the branches of the Whomping Willow swaying continuously.

But everything around him was serene. The rain couldn't touch him, and the wind couldn't pass through him—except for the slightly bothersome transparent shield that elevated him by a foot.

In the distance, some students had arrived early. They watched curiously as Professor Harp circled the pitch in the pouring rain, not daring to disturb him.

These students chose seats on the higher tiers, their gazes locked onto Felix. Even though they didn't understand what he was doing, it seemed fascinating.

Especially a few young witches with black hair and blue eyes imagined (since the rain obscured their view) Professor Harp strolling gracefully in the rain. Their attention couldn't be diverted.

When Felix completed the third circuit around the Quidditch pitch, the humanoid Ironclad Charm around him had closed in to about half an inch. It was hardly noticeable unless one looked closely.

He stopped and glanced at the entrance of the pitch. A team of Hufflepuff players, donning canary yellow robes, walked in. The one leading them was tall, slender, and handsome—the captain of the Hufflepuff team, Cedric Diggory.

Felix ascended the wooden steps to the professors' viewing area, quietly took a seat. The canopy above his head was utterly useless against the rain, forcing him to maintain the Ironclad Charm.

One by one, young wizards and witches, some draped in cloaks and others holding umbrellas, entered the pitch.

As time ticked by, more and more people gathered. Professors McGonagall and Hooch arrived, and Dumbledore came too. When he spotted Felix, he smiled faintly and sat down beside him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Felix."

Dumbledore nearly whispered, "Quite an intriguing technique."

Felix knew what he was referring to. "Aside from protecting against the wind, it doesn't seem very useful. Essentially just an Ironclad Charm."

"Felix, you're too focused on the power of spells."

"Isn't the Ironclad Charm meant for defense?"

The two conversed quietly. Soon, the two teams for today's match stood at the center of the pitch. The downpour had created layers of watery screens, making it possible to only see the yellow and crimson Quidditch uniforms. But even so, it didn't dampen their enthusiasm. Amidst the booming thunder, a roar of cheers erupted from the stands.

With a whistle from Madam Hooch, the match began.

The players of both teams rose into the air at odd angles. The wind was truly fierce. Felix Harp noticed Harry being swept sideways by the wind. Thankfully, he quickly adapted to the wind direction. Aside from him, a few female Quidditch players were also struggling.

This had nothing to do with skill; it was simply a matter of not having enough weight.

In a state of accelerated thought, everything in Felix's eyes seemed to slow down. Layers of rain curtains didn't obscure his view. He rapidly analyzed the dynamics on the field, attempting to predict the upcoming scores for a certain period of time.

This was why Felix was intrigued by Quidditch. For him, each match was a high-quality group duel.

"Harry will crash into his own teammate in two seconds if he doesn't turn—oh, he turned."

"Cedric's speed is not bad. In this weather, his weight gives him an advantage. Huh? He can still manage to direct the team?"

"This wind doesn't affect Wood at all. Indeed, he easily guarded the goal."

"The Bludger is going to hit that witch in the red robes. I remember her name is Angelina Johnson. Her teammate is coming from the lower left corner. Will the Bludger be blocked, Fred or George?"

"A timeout whistle, requested by Wood. They're leading... so obviously."

The match paused. Gryffindor was ahead by fifty points, and the packed open-air stands erupted with excited roars from Gryffindor supporters.

After a moment, the match continued. The clash between the two houses became even more intense. The spectators couldn't discern the players' faces on the field; they could only judge the houses and positions based on the uniforms and actions.

Commentator Lee Jordan shouted into the microphone, "Gryffindor launching an attack, the Quaffle is in the hands of one of the three girls—I can't quite see..."

Cedric had focused his attention on finding the Golden Snitch. His impromptu team wasn't a match for Gryffindor; the score difference would only grow larger.

His only hope of victory was to catch the Golden Snitch, but that wasn't easy. His opponent was Harry Potter, Gryffindor's brilliant Seeker, who had never lost in the realm of the sky.

Felix continued to analyze the situation on the field—

"Hufflepuff seems precarious. Direct attack isn't working against them; Harry's record in Seeker duels gives him the upper hand. Unless Harry makes a mistake... did he really make a mistake?"

In mid-air, Harry's hand slipped suddenly, and he slid a few feet downward. He performed a somersault in the air but quickly regained control.

The match carried on. Cedric seemed to have noticed something. He reversed his broom one hundred and eighty degrees and assumed a diving posture. But Felix didn't have time to pay attention because a group of black Dementors captured his gaze.

They emerged from a corner of the Forbidden Forest, gliding close to the ground. Some were scattered in mid-air, like black trash bags caught in the wind.

The rain suddenly turned icy, and the air fell silent. Cheers and shouts seemed to be cut off at the source. Felix knew that this was the effect of Dementors on young wizards.

At a height of one hundred feet, several Dementors, concealed by the dark clouds and mist, encircled Harry. They paid little attention to Cedric. As dark creatures born from decay and despair, they could easily discern those who had suffered painful experiences.

It was clear that Harry still had some awareness. One hand gripped his broom, the other held his wand. A red incantation slashed through the clouds, but the effect was minimal.

His broom plummeted uncontrollably, and Harry fell into unconsciousness.

"Dumbledore..." Felix murmured softly.

"I'll save him," said Dumbledore in a deep voice. He extended a finger and pointed it at Harry. Harry quickly slowed his descent.

The tip of Felix's wand in his hand exploded suddenly, a silver stream of light burst through the thick clouds in the blink of an eye, like silver lightning. It slammed into the Dementors surrounding Harry, knocking them back. They tumbled and fell from the sky, but soon floated lightly to the ground, merging into the Dementor horde below.

The silver stream of light transformed into a delicate and agile rain swallow with scythe-like wings. It hovered in mid-air without flapping its wings. From the rain swallow's mouth came a deafening sound, "Dementors, depart from here."

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