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On October 9th, it was Quidditch match day. A light rain fell, but it wasn’t heavy enough to cancel.
Yet, for so reason, the air carried an unusual chill.
"Have so hot soup, Harry," Hermione said, holding out a bowl of creamy mushroom soup. "Eating sothing hearty will help you fend off the cold."
"Yeah, mate," Ron chid in from beside her. "Listen to Hermione, have so—you can’t just eat nothing, can you?"
Harry grabbed a few slices of baguette from the side, dipped them briefly in the creamy mushroom soup, and wolfed them down.
"Eat more, eat more," Hermione said with a relieved smile.
Though he’d been feeling a bit sluggish before, after eating, Harry felt his spirits lift considerably.
Just then, the Gryffindor Quidditch team filed into the Great Hall.
"This match is going to be intense. I overheard Hufflepuff’s pre-ga pep talk," Wood said. "rlin’s beard, I can’t eat a thing right now..."
"Don’t worry, Oliver," Alicia Spinnet reassured him. "A little rain doesn’t bother us. Besides, we’ve got Harry—our secret weapon."
"You’re right," Wood said, his spirits visibly buoyed as he grinned at Alicia. "I suppose I should take a page out of Harry’s book and eat sothing warm. It’s chilly out there—a bit of rain won’t stop us!"
But when they stepped out of the Great Hall, they realized this was no re drizzle.
Quidditch was an imnsely popular sport in the wizarding world, so, as usual, the entire school turned out to watch the match. They trudged across the lawn toward the Quidditch pitch, heads bowed against the fierce wind, their umbrellas snatched from their hands by sudden gusts.
The team changed into their scarlet robes and gathered at the entrance, awaiting Wood’s customary pre-match speech.
"Lads!" Wood called out loudly.
"And ladies," Angelina added.
"Right, and ladies," Wood corrected himself. "It’s just a bit of rain, but that won’t stop us. This is my last year playing Quidditch, so let’s make it a perfect finish."
No sooner had he finished speaking than a gust of wind blasted into his mouth, forcing him to swallow a lungful of cold air. He gagged, letting out a long, resounding belch.
"rlin’s beard, ’just a bit of rain,’" the Weasley twins mocked in unison. "A bit of rain."
"Shut it, you two clones!" Angelina snapped. "Get your heads in the ga. If I catch you slacking off in this rain, you’re done for!"
The twins pulled faces at Angelina in perfect sync.
From a distance, a muffled voice carried over, barely discernible but recognizable as Madam Hooch urging them to take the field.
"Let’s go," Wood said to the team. "Co on, let’s win this match."
"Kick Hufflepuff’s arse!" Fred jeered from the side.
They followed Wood to the center of the Quidditch pitch.
The pitch itself was in dire need of maintenance. As Harry walked, he felt his feet sinking into the muddy ground.
"Ugh!" Alicia groaned. "This is practically a swamp."
"What, did you expect sunshine?" Wood retorted.
The rain was loud, mingling with the rumble of thunder, weaving a chaotic symphony over the Quidditch pitch. The noise drowned out any shouts from the crowd.
Raindrops pelted Harry’s glasses, blurring his vision. He tapped them with his wand.
"Impervius."
The spell dried his glasses instantly, as if they’d been through a dryer, rendering them impervious to the rain.
The Hufflepuff team approached from the opposite side of the pitch, clad in canary-yellow robes. The two captains stepped forward to shake hands. Cedric smiled at Wood, who returned a tight-lipped grin, wary of letting another gust of wind fill his mouth.
Once everyone was in position, Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and blew, the shrill sound cutting through the storm from afar—the match had begun!
Harry flew fast, but his Nimbus 2000 wobbled unsteadily in the wind. He gripped it tightly, veering into the storm.
Within minutes, Harry was soaked to the bone. He cursed himself for rembering to charm his glasses but forgetting his clothes. Thankfully, he’d followed Hermione’s advice and eaten well, which kept the cold at bay.
He discreetly touched his robes and cast another Impervius charm, feeling much better—being drenched was miserable otherwise.
Despite the waterproof charm on his glasses, the torrential rain made it nearly impossible to see the players, let alone the tiny Golden Snitch. Fortunately, Gryffindor’s scarlet robes stood out, allowing him to distinguish teammates from opponents.
Harry soared across the pitch, weaving through blurred figures of red and yellow, the howling wind drowning out the crowd’s cheers. The spectators, cloaked in hoods and clutching wind-battered umbrellas, couldn’t hide their enthusiasm. Every ti Harry and his teammates passed the stands, a roar erupted from the crowd.
For this match, Cassandra and Veratia had made a rare appearance in the stands, using magic to create a dry, sheltered spot. One brought along her grandnephew, while the other was accompanied by Miss Farley.
"Who do you think will win?" Miss Farley shouted to Veratia.
"I’m betting on Harry!" Veratia replied confidently.
Not long after, Madam Hooch’s whistle pierced the air. Harry thought the match was over, but it wasn’t. He landed, hearing Wood say, "I’ve called a tiout, lads—and ladies..."
Wood noticed Harry’s dry robes.
"Let cast a few charms for you lot," Harry said before Wood could ask, patting their shoulders and applying the Impervius charm to each.
"Nice spellwork—wandless, no less," Wood praised. "Bliy, Harry, you’re full of surprises."
"What’s the score?" Harry asked.
"We’re up by fifty points, but you need to catch the Snitch fast," Wood said, clapping Harry’s shoulder. "Don’t worry, Harry, we’ve got your back. Just focus on the Snitch, got it?"
"Got it," Harry nodded.
The match resud quickly. Harry kicked off, soaring into the sky.
Braving the biting wind, Harry scanned for the Snitch. A clap of thunder roared, followed by a fork of lightning that nearly struck him. He dodged just in ti.
As he swerved to avoid another bolt, Harry caught an unusual sight. At the highest row of the stands, pristine-white Poppy Sweeting stood on an empty seat, prancing and cheering for him with her front hooves.
Beside her was a burly black dog. Sothing about it seed... off to Harry.
He didn’t dwell on it, instead waving at Poppy. She bounced even more excitedly, only to slip with an "oops!" and tumble from the stands.
Harry nearly fell off his broom laughing.
"Harry!" Wood’s voice called from the goalposts. Harry turned to see Wood pointing urgently. "Stop looking over there! Diggory just flew past you—I bet he’s spotted sothing!"
Harry urged his broom forward, searching for Cedric. There he was, just above, chasing sothing.
Harry knew Cedric was a Seeker—and what he was chasing had to be the Golden Snitch!
With that, Harry sped after him. But before he got far, a flash lit the sky, and a bolt of lightning struck downward.
Harry saw Cedric, arm outstretched, struck by the lightning. He plumted like a broken kite.
"Cedric!" Harry shouted, quickly casting a Arresto Montum charm.
Thanks to Harry’s spell, Cedric’s fall slowed, drifting down like a feather.
But then, everything went silent. The wind, the rain, the crowd’s cheers—all stopped.
Yet Harry could still feel the wind cutting his cheeks and the rain pelting his face and body. It was as if he’d lost his hearing.
What was happening?
A sinking feeling gripped him, an ominous premonition rising in his chest.
A bone-chilling cold swept over him, piercing even through his chard robes.
What was going on? he wondered.
There was no ti to think. The Golden Snitch appeared right in front of him. Harry lunged, but it fluttered away, darting upward.
He chased it, weaving through clouds, the Snitch tantalizingly close.
Closer, closer.
Flying through a raincloud, Harry saw the Snitch within reach—and a dog-shaped cloud in the sky.
His heart skipped a beat.
Could it be... a Grim?
Seizing the mont, Harry grabbed the Snitch.
He turned his broom to leave, but sothing unexpected happened.
A Dentor appeared beside him.
Harry veered his broom, trying to shake it off. These were Azkaban’s guards—he didn’t want trouble. Maybe it had wandered here by mistake.
But as he turned again, two more Dentors appeared in front of him.
In an instant, Harry knew—they were after him.
Looking down, he saw at least a hundred Dentors below, their hooded faces turned toward him, their shadowy forms quivering with excitent at the prospect of hunting him.
The crowd below began to notice sothing was wrong.
A thunderclap illuminated the entire pitch, lighting up the clouds. Everyone could see countless Dentors swirling in the sky—over a hundred of them.
"Dentors!" Ron’s panicked scream tore through the air as he pushed through the crowd toward Dumbledore, shouting about the Dentors overhead.
Dumbledore had already seen them—so had everyone else.
"Albus!" Professor McGonagall said, her voice tight with worry for Harry.
Snape’s hand was already in his robes, ready to cast a spell at the sky.
In the Slytherin stands, Cassandra watched Harry’s direction intently, her hand on her wand.
"Miss Grindelwald!" Miss Farley gasped, looking at Veratia.
Veratia didn’t respond, her focus, like Cassandra’s, on preparing to save Harry with a spell.
But as everyone held their breath for Harry, the dark sky suddenly blazed with light.
From Harry’s position, a brilliant blue glow radiated outward, dispersing the oppressive clouds.
The students soon realized it wasn’t just light—it was fire!
The clouds vanished in an instant, replaced by vibrant blue flas. The flas leaped fiercely, reflecting their master’s fury.
The Dentors recoiled, but they couldn’t escape the relentless flas, which consud them, reducing them to ash.
In re monts, the blue fire spread across the sky, replacing the storm clouds entirely.
A path cleared through the flas, and a spell’s incantation echoed across the Quidditch pitch, reaching every ear:
"Partis Temporus!"
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