Harry: The Dementors and I Are Irreconcilable Enemies

This was the heaviest rain of the year, with howling winds that only subsided slightly late into the night.

In the early morning, the whistling wind blew in his ears. Loren felt a cold wind blow on the back of his neck. He sat up abruptly and looked to his side. There was Peeves, who loved to play pranks.

I don't know where it crawled into the dorm room, but it lay down next to my pillow and blew air into Loren's ear.

After waking Loren, Peeves chuckled and hung upside down from the four-poster bed frame with its paws, shouting triumphantly, "The second one! The second one!"

Loren yawned, picked up his wand and waved it at Peeves. Suddenly, the dormitory window popped open, a strong gust of air swirled up, and the whirlwind carried Peeves out of the window with a clatter.

The noise outside the window suddenly became clearer: the rumbling of thunder, the sound of the wind crashing against the Castle walls, and the cracking of branches breaking in the distant Forbidden Forest.

As the cold air swept in, Ron, Seamus, and Neville grumbled a few times and shrank deeper into the covers.

When Loren saw that Harry's bed next door was empty, he recalled Peeves's earlier exclamation, "Looks like Harry was the first one to be woken up."

He casually cast a binding spell on the window to prevent the Peeves from coming in and causing trouble again.

After washing up and changing, Loren went downstairs and saw Hermione already waiting on the sofa in the Common Room.

This scenario has happened many times before. Considering someone's love of sleeping in, Hermione doesn't set a time when he must get up to meet her. If she gets up early, she can wait a little longer. Occasionally, Loren gets up earlier than Hermione and will also wait here.

Hermione didn't spend much time styling her hair over the weekend. Her fluffy hair was tied up with a tree branch-shaped headband, with a few strands hanging in front of her forehead and the rest cascading down her back. Against her smooth skin, she had a bright and generous air about her when she smiled.

Like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, it brightens one's eyes.

"Good morning." Hermione put down her book and smoothed the hair that was hanging down by her ear.

Loren's gaze softened, and a smile appeared on his lips, "Good morning, Hermione!"

"Did you write a letter?"

"..."

"I'm asking you, have you finished writing the letter to Mr. Bates?" Hermione repeated herself, her voice soft and pleasant, but devoid of emotion and somewhat cold.

"Emmm..." Loren hesitated for a moment before explaining, "I stayed up a bit last night to wait for Neville, and then I comforted him until late at night after Neville came back, so I forgot."

Hermione: "..."

She knew she had to tell Mr. Bates when she got back so he could teach this guy a lesson.

Hermione sighed helplessly, "Write it now. After breakfast, we'll go to the Owlery and come back just in time for the Quidditch Match to start."

Loren chuckled twice, took out paper and pen, squatted down and leaned on the table to start writing a letter, pausing from time to time to think about his wording.

"Take a look at what you wrote, can I borrow it for reference?"

"No!" the girl suddenly exclaimed, her voice filled with unnatural embarrassment and annoyance.

"If it's not okay, it's not okay, why are you being so fierce..." Loren muttered, slowly turning his head to look at Hermione thoughtfully.

With several hours to go before the Quidditch match, and no classes on the weekend, the Castle was empty and deserted in the early morning, perfect for sleeping in such fine weather.

After writing the letter and having breakfast, the two put on their waterproof, enhanced-version Bubble-Head Charm and headed towards the Owlery with their umbrellas.

Loren, holding up his umbrella, glanced at her storage pendant and tentatively said, "Give me the letter. I have a thick envelope here; it definitely won't get wet from the wind and rain."

Hermione remained unmoved. "The Hānhan will protect the letter."

She regretted it somewhat; she had inadvertently revealed a flaw. From the moment she finished writing the letter until she left the Castle for breakfast, this person had various schemes to try and see her letter.

Hmm... Not so easy to fool.

Loren's eyes darted around as he pondered how to glean some information from the letter.

It wasn't that he necessarily wanted to read Hermione's letter; he had never thought of reading them before when they wrote back together. But this time was different. The more Hermione tried to hide it, the more curious he became.

Upon entering the Owlery, Loren, harboring his own thoughts, paused every three steps and stopped every five, stroking the owls on the shelf. He would stop to say a few words to the cute ones and praise them; when he encountered a newly joined owl, he would put on airs and earnestly offer a few words of encouragement.

Having just finished petting a little owl, Loren walked back to Hermione's side from the shelf and said casually, "The Quidditch Match is about to start. Why don't you give me the letter and go back first? I'll chat with Hānhan and then come find you in the stands, okay?"

Hermione shook her head expressionlessly, appearing very patient and not at all impatient.

So Loren, dragging Hermione along, slowly and leisurely made his way to the Hānhan boy...

Hermione patiently watched as the man and the bird put on a heartwarming scene of affection between master and servant.

Faced with its erratic owner, the Hānhan was a bit bewildered, but no clever owl would refuse a massage and treats offered to it.

It cooperated with its owner while enjoying the wonderful time, making a purring sound from its throat in comfort.

After cleaning the little paws of the Hānhan for the third time, Loren had to give up the idea of reading the letter and watched as the Hānhan flew out of the shed with Hermione and his letter.

As they left the Owlery, the whistles and cheers from the Quidditch Pitch pierced through the wind and rain. Loren listened intently, then frowned and turned the tables on them. "It's all your fault, you made us miss the start of the game."

"..."

Hermione pursed her lips and remained silent for a few seconds, taking several deep breaths before finally bursting into laughter. "Yes, if someone hadn't comforted dozens of owls and given them several full-body massages before the Hānhan set off, we would have almost missed the start of the race! Don't you think so, Mr. Morgan?"

Hearing the girl's angry, sarcastic remark, Loren chuckled nonchalantly, "It's alright, it's alright, I don't blame you. We can still make it if we go now."

"..."

Bang--

After giving him a back elbow, Hermione immediately felt much better.

The biting wind and rain grew even louder.

Brooms swept across the Quidditch Pitch in the wind and rain, water droplets slid down the players' faces, indistinguishable between sweat and rain, while students in the stands shouted encouragement, their hoarse voices seemingly shaking the wind and rain for a brief moment.

The narrator was the veteran host, Lee Jordan, who occasionally interspersed Professor McGonagall's admonitions... a rather loud admonition.

The two walked down to the stands. Loren folded his umbrella, looked up and squinted at the sky, and said to Hermione, "Don't you think those clouds are moving a little fast?"

"Dark clouds?" Hermione followed his gaze and exclaimed in surprise, "Those are Dementor!"

"Harry— "

A sudden, violent scream erupted from the stadium, followed by the sound of Dumbledore chanting a spell.

A powerful, silvery-white Patronus light silently bloomed, its rays like sharp swords cleaving through layers of rain and piercing into the thick clouds, as if the sun were rising from the ground into the sky.

Harry was in a daze in mid-air, a familiar chill enveloping his body, and the icy rain seemed to pour into his chest, cutting into his internal organs.

For some reason, he remembered the night Voldemort attacked his parents, and his mother's desperate pleas and dying cries.

Damn it, it's Dementor again!

Harry lost consciousness, and gravity pulled his body down to the ground. The world was bathed in a radiant light.

The old headmaster's Patronus Charm was awe-inspiring, sparking a new wave of enthusiasm for learning Patronus Charm among the young wizards.

With Gryffindor losing their Seeker, Cedric caught the Golden Snitch with little effort. The Hufflepuff wizards, having won the match, were in a dilemma. Their victory wasn't entirely fair, but they lacked the confidence to request a rematch—after all, Gryffindor had a significant lead before Harry's fall.

However, the final decision rested with Cedric, and he went to Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall to request a rematch next week without much hesitation.

After dinner, Loren and Hermione went to the Hospital Wing to visit the injured Harry.

After greeting Madam Pomfrey, the two entered the ward, where Ron and Ginny were already waiting.

With Dumbledore present, Harry was not seriously injured and had already woken up. He was leaning against the headboard, half-lying down, talking to Ron.

Ginny sat on the edge of the bed, quietly peeling an apple. She looked like she wanted to peel it into a long strip, but every time Harry looked over, her hand holding the knife would tremble slightly, and the apple peel would just break off.

With a Licorice Wands dangling from his mouth, Ron, completely disregarding the patient's feelings, loudly proclaimed, "Harry, whatever you do after you graduate, don't become a professional Quidditch player!"

"Why?" Harry asked in surprise. "I really considered becoming a professional player, and Captain Wood said I would be a good fit."

Ron explained in a serious tone, "Your talent is right, but your luck isn't. Think about it, how many Quidditch games have you played since first year? Every time there was an accident that almost killed you."

Ginny's hand trembled as she peeled the apple, and the peel broke again. She looked up at Harry with a horrified expression.

Quirrell's plot, Dobby's unique protection, Lockhart's healing, and now the Dementor... Harry silently recalled the ball games he had participated in, feeling a little apprehensive, and inexplicably felt that Ron's words made some sense.

"Harry, don't listen to his nonsense. Captain Wood will be heartbroken to lose you as the Seeker."

Loren and Hermione lifted the white curtain and slowly walked in.

"Loren, Hermione, good evening!"

"Good evening."

"Good evening."

Ginny's eyes lit up, and she pulled Hermione to sit down next to her. While peeling an apple, she chattered quietly, leaving the boys alone.

Loren sat down beside him. "Don't worry, Harry, Cedric has already requested a rematch next week."

Harry's face lit up with joy. He really didn't know how he would face the team's veteran captain if he ruined Wood's last year's dream because of him.

Harry exclaimed excitedly, "Cedric is such a good man!"

"Hopefully, when the rematch happens, those Dementor will have become kind-hearted, chivalrous good Dementor." Ron crunched through his Licorice Wands.

"Dementor!" Harry gritted his teeth in anger. "This is the third time! I really want to teach them a lesson and break their noses with my fists!"

But the thought of quickly losing consciousness every time he got close to Dementor made Harry feel discouraged, his face filled with frustration.

"Don't you get extra lessons from Professor Lupin every week? How's your Patronus Charm coming along?" Loren asked.

"Don't even mention it," Harry said sullenly. "I just can't muster the energy to fight Boggart in Dementor form. Even though I can unleash my Patronus Aura, you know, it's like dueling practice and a real duel are not the same thing."

"I suggested to the professor that we practice with real Dementor, but Professor Lupin said that was too dangerous, and that Dementor were employees of the Ministry of Magic and could not be easily captured for practice."

"Practical training..." Loren nodded thoughtfully.

It remains to be seen whether the Boggart he controls can serve as a practical training tool.

The Room of Requirement simulates the Slytherin Head of House's office.

The crucible on the table was bubbling gently, with tiny bubbles rising to the surface. A rectangular box covered with a black cloth sat beside it, trembling slightly from time to time.

Behind the desk, Loren lay back in a comfortable rocking chair, the Fantasy Book in his arms gleaming with a faint silver light.

Inside the Library of the Fantasy Book, crimson flames surged and burned more and more fiercely, their color even turning somewhat black.

The transparent space distorted slightly with the heat waves. Even though some bookshelves were not affected by the flames, the books on them were scorched and began to curl at the edges, turn black and charred, and soon turned to ashes in the spreading sea of fire.

The raging flames converged, and a giant Ashwinder, capable of incinerating everything, was conceived within the fireball, its thick, long body and the shape of its scales appearing and disappearing.

As flames continuously spewed from the tip of the wand, Loren held his breath, focusing intently on the feedback from the wand, gradually controlling the turbulent flow of flames to shrink and thin out...

Sizzle—

Just before the Fiendfyre was completely shut down, the flames went out of control again, reverting to their original, unstoppable state, with lush and turbulent flames gushing from the tip of the wand.

Loren remained calm and casually tossed his fire-breathing wand into the flames. The Apple Wood wand quickly turned to ashes, and the Fiendfyre lost its source.

When Loren flipped his hand again, an identical wand appeared in his hand. With a wave, an invisible Transfiguration landed on the surging sea of fire. Under Loren's will, the flames Transfiguration into tiny, writhing snakes.

"It works!"

Loren's face lit up with joy. Just as he was trying to control the snakes to swim in the direction he wanted, the Transfiguration suddenly went out of control. Countless snakes scattered in all directions, rapidly expanding the area of the flames.

The scorching flames rushed towards him, signaling yet another failure in his practice of controlling the Fiendfyre.

Loren was not surprised and began to try to extinguish the Fiendfyre using anti-curses and finishing spells. After a stalemate of more than ten minutes, the Library was completely turned into a hell of flames.

Watching Loren restart the Library, Flamel said resentfully, "If you want to practice Fiendfyre, there are many more places to burn in the Duel Chamber. Why burn down the Library?"

Loren chuckled, "It would be more exciting to burn down the Library."