Dewey lightly waved his wand. A faint, invisible barrier appeared like flowing water, covering his body like a transparent film. He waved his wand again, and a wall appeared before him.
Then clouds, flowing water, shields, armor, birds, Dementors, and all kinds of armor appeared around him, taking whatever form he wished.
"Protego" had become a peculiar form of defense. As long as he wanted, the spell could appear in any shape.
He tried casting "Stupefy" at the armor created by Protego.
"Full Body-Bind Curse."
"Reducto."
"Avada Kedavra."
The armor failed to defend against Avada Kedavra, but it withstood all the other spells, reflecting them back. It was a Teacher-level Protego.
Dewey watched the spells ricochet away and thought it over carefully. Then he cast several more layers of Protego over himself, found a park, folded his hands over his chest, and went peacefully to sleep.
With Protego in place, the ground didn't dig into his back, and Dewey slept very comfortably. He covered his face with a newspaper, like the white cloth placed over the face of the deceased at an Eastern funeral.
He placed a stone on top of the newspaper.
His hands rested neatly on his stomach.
His expression was peaceful.
His briefcase made a hard pillow beneath his head.
He hadn't cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm or Duro, yet no one came near him all night.
He didn't look quite right.
Nightmares left him drenched in sweat, despite the mild weather. Dewey's eyes cracked open, bloodshot.
He was still asleep, but his breathing had already grown ragged.
The gloomy castle, the Dementors flying everywhere, and the black figures—faceless, yet so enormous that they towered over the castle and island, lurking in the sea fog—all made for a deeply unsettling sight.
They surrounded Azkaban, watching Dewey impassively like