Chapter 387B: Slytherin's Disaster
"What on earth is happening!"
Professor McGonagall was in total chaos.
She had never imagined that dementors would suddenly appear on the Quidditch pitch, let alone that they would attack students directly.
Now the battle had fully erupted, and she had completely lost control of the situation.
While the dementors were still attacking, she could not allow the students to put down their wands, nor could she protect all of them from the onslaught.
All she could do was act continuously, helping the students resist the dementors.
Other professors on the pitch had also begun intervening.
At first, they had tried to prevent the outbreak, attempting to stop students from attacking the dementors.
But once they realised the dementors were indiscriminately targeting students, their anger flared, and they threw themselves into the fray.
Still, aside from using Patronuses to drive the dementors back, there was little else they could do.
Almost all of their spells were ineffective against the dementors. Many professors were powerful, but the damage their spells caused was often less than what a second-year student could inflict with a single modified Incendio against these creatures.
It was frustrating for them, yet they were not useless. At least they could cast Patronuses to protect the students, allowing them to safely unleash attack spells on the dementors.
The situation was worse for Slytherin.
Snape had not come to the match today, leaving no strong wizard to support Slytherin.
On top of that, none of the Slytherin students had joined the Kingdom of Order, leaving them extremely limited in how they could respond.
Very few could conjure a true, corporeal Patronus, and as for the modified flames capable of actually harming a dementor, there was not a single one among them.
From the outside, Slytherin's flames seemed as bright as Ravenclaw's, but they posed almost no threat to the dementors.
Once the dementors realised this, they launched a ferocious attack on Slytherin.
The dementors did not care about blood status; to them, everyone was the same.
"Damn it!"
Malfoy's face was grim. He cast spell after spell, trying to repel the dementors, but to little effect.
"Draco, what do we do? We can't hold out much longer!"
Pansy Parkinson's face had gone pale.
"I don't want to die here," Crabbe and Goyle muttered, on the verge of tears.
The dementors were terrifying, especially in such numbers.
Though the Slytherins usually acted arrogantly, facing the dementors, they were just thirteen-year-old children. Fear and despair left them unable to mount any real resistance.
Malfoy managed to cast a few spells in return, but the others could barely lift their wands.
Above them, Hermione took in the dire situation.
"The Slytherins aren't holding up well. Should we go help them?"
"Oh, Hermione, have you forgotten Malfoy calling you a Mudblood? Why should we help them? Let them die," Ron said bluntly.
"But… they are still our classmates, and not all Slytherins are bad," Hermione hesitated.
In truth, Hermione did not want to intervene for Malfoy, but she could not just watch them die.
Ron fell silent.
Though he despised Slytherin, he understood Hermione's point. Not every Slytherin was evil—they were still classmates.
"Let's ask Dudley," Ron said, turning his broom toward Dudley's position.
Harry followed, riding his broom toward Dudley as well.
"The Slytherins can't withstand the dementors!"
Harry called, glancing at their side of the pitch.
"We're going to ask Dudley whether we should help Slytherin," Hermione shouted.
The roaring wind carried their voices across the sky. Normally, they could be considered rivals, but in a life-or-death moment, it seemed impossible to watch them die.
Together, they flew toward Dudley.
Dudley noticed Slytherin's situation and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione heading his way.
"Should we help Malfoy and the others?" Ron called out as he approached.
"Yes. Help them," Dudley said succinctly.
"But not now. Wait until they're on the brink of collapse, then intervene," he added.
They immediately understood his strategy.
If they acted now, the Slytherins might not appreciate it. But if they intervened when the students were truly at the brink of death, it would be far more effective.
Of course, there would inevitably be ungrateful ones.
But that did not matter. There were still enough decent Slytherins willing to follow Dudley—and that would be enough.
There was no need to treat all Slytherins as enemies. Turning some into allies was a more effective way to weaken the others.
The battle raged on.
At Hogwarts Castle, the staff finally realised something was wrong on the Quidditch pitch. Messages were sent to the Headmaster, and people hurried toward the scene.
Minute by minute, Slytherin's situation grew increasingly desperate.
When the last upper-year student's Patronus was overwhelmed by the oncoming dementors, the Slytherin students were completely exposed.
"No!"
Malfoy let out a terrified scream.
But in the face of so many dementors, his cry was feeble, almost a groan rather than a scream.
Whoosh!
A dozen dementors surged down, attacking the Slytherin students, greedily devouring their happiness.
All of the Slytherins' joy was stripped away, leaving only despair and fear.
Beneath their massive hoods, the dementors' featureless black voids opened, mouths reaching toward them…
"Fiendfyre, burn the sky!"
At that moment, Dudley descended from above on Norberta, flames raging around him like a god of fire incarnate.
The crimson fire poured down, and the dementors scattered at the sight, terrified of the overwhelming blaze.