Professor Vampire.

Chapter 207: A shocking turn of events on the Quidditch pitch

For the first few days since classes resumed at Hogwarts, the young wizards were a little wary of Sirius Black making a comeback and threatening their safety.

Since that day, however, there had been no sign of Sirius in the castle.

If Sir Cadogan's portrait hadn't still been hanging on the door of the Gryffindor common room in place of the Fat Lady, the young and forgetful young wizards would probably have forgotten about the infamous and wanted criminal altogether.

Visiting Professor Lemmus Lupin was dedicated, and upon his arrival at Hogwarts, he had been patrolling all parts of the castle every day, looking for signs of Sirius.

Not only that, but he pointed out many secret passages that connected the castle to the outside world.

These passages were discovered while he was attending school with the quartet of James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Some of them were even unheard of by Filch.

The professors agreed that Sirius had butchered his way into the castle through those secret passages that Filch didn't know about.

Because of this credit, Lupin quickly made good connections with the other professors, except for one - the

The Dean of Slytherin, Severus Snape.

"Regarding your recruitment of a new visiting professor, I do not feel it was a wise decision, Mr. Headmaster." Snape stopped Dumbledore one night not long after Lupin arrived and told him.

"But I don't think so, Severus, and I'm guessing you still have some prejudice against Lemmings." Dumbledore said tantalizingly.

Snape furrowed his brow, his waxy face seeming to bear a distinct air of exasperation.

"You do remember the two of them from before, don't you, Headmaster?" Snape said. His lips were barely parted as he spoke, clenching the roots of his teeth as if he had some kind of bone-deep hatred for Lupin, "You do remember who he really is as well, I suppose ..."

"Remember, Severus." Dumbledore said, his voice containing something akin to a warning, "Who Lemmings is doesn't necessarily have anything to do with having him come to the castle to help, we talked about that, didn't we?"

"But I can see that there is a good chance that he will tip off Breck." Snape whispered, "He shows up in a few of the most prominent places in the castle during his daily inspections, and that's not just visible to us, it's equally visible to Blake outside the castle."

"It is entirely possible that he is using this behavior to send a message to Blake, telling him that he can't come ... now that we're heavily inspected."

"Like I said, I don't believe that Lemus would help Blake get into the castle." Dumbledore said, "He wants to capture Sirius Black more than we do, more than he wants to know the truth about what happened back then."

"All you need to do is do your job and prepare the potion I gave you, I have the rest in mind."

The tone of his voice made it clear that this matter was talked about as far as it went, so Snape did not reply.

"I must go and deal with those dementors outside the castle," Dumbledore said, "I fear that if we do not deal with deal with them, the things will think we are hiding the culprits."

"Do they intend to help, Headmaster?" Snape said softly, frowning in disgust.

"Oh yes, and I don't know whether they want to search for criminals or suck the joy out of the children ...," Dumbledore said coldly, "but I'm afraid that as long as I am Headmaster, they will never be allowed to cross the the threshold of the school."

...

The young wizards were obviously much more relaxed than the professors who were constantly on guard and on edge all the time.

They had pretty much forgotten that another escaped criminal like Sirius Black had come to Hogwarts Castle, or that they were still in danger.

All they knew was that the first Quidditch match was gradually approaching.

I don't know if it was the dementors outside the castle, but the weather was getting worse these days.

But in this weather, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was practicing harder and harder.

Originally, for Harry's safety, Professor McGonagall did not want to expose him to the empty Quidditch pitch to prevent being drilled by Sirius Black.

But because of Harry's firm request, and because Professor McGonagall herself wanted the Gryffindor Quidditch team to get a good match result, she agreed to the team's request to continue training.

Of course, just to be on the safe side, she asked Ms. Hokey, who taught flying lessons, to accompany the Gryffindor team to practice.

"Listen, our opponent this time is not easy." Wood, the team captain, exclaimed as he stood on the pitch at the last practice before the match, "Our opponent this time is Hufflepuff, the defending champions from the previous school year."

It had been a blustery day all day, and just as Wood was speaking, the team heard rumbling thunder in the distance.

Upon hearing the name of the college, Harry subconsciously tightened his grip on the broom he was holding.

It occurred to him that the reason his match form had gotten so bad last year was because of Autumn Chang and Hufflepuff's ball finder, Cedric Diggory.

Harry had not known how many times he had been indignant about Cedric dating Autumn Chang, thinking that Cedric was just a white boy who had nothing going for him other than his good looks, and he had not known how many times he had been distracted in class and gone wrong in matches because of it.

But now when he thought back to Autumn Chang's face, it was like a lifetime ago, and even in his memory it seemed a little indistinguishable.

Harry realized that he liked nothing more than the false Autumn-Chang in his own mind.

In fact, he hadn't even known much about her specifically before that point, other than the encounter where Professor Dracula had given out awards to the first of three years, and the run-in where he had brazenly accosted her in the Ravenclaw tower.

Whether it was her personality, her family, her character, or her likes and dislikes were all his own guesses, and when that bull's-eye fondness became tantalizing, all that was left in his mind was the real Autumn Chang, the one he didn't know, and of course, that memory molded into a lake.

And his opinion of Cedric as a white boy was just a prejudice caused by jealousy.

Cedric was actually courteous and friendly, and consistently promoted the principles of fair and friendly play on the Quidditch pitch, and his flying ability and ball skills were quite good, so it was no surprise at all that a girl had taken a liking to him.

In the last game before the Quidditch final last school year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Harry then made a reconciliation within himself with Cedric, sort of handing a Hufflepuff a chance to win over Slytherin, allowing them to achieve the final championship.

Now, for the first Quidditch match of this school year, Gryffindor just happened to meet Hufflepuff, which brought Harry a feeling like it was meant to be.

"Are you listening carefully, Harry?"

Wood's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts. He looked up in a hurry and smiled at Wood.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Wood looked at Harry suspiciously and hesitantly, "It's not going to be as off as last school year, is it?"

"Don't worry Oliver, it won't be like that again!" Harry smiled confidently, "I'm already another Harry!"

"That's for the best," Wood nodded and continued, "We're playing against a Hufflepuff team this tournament, but we don't know anything about their style of play this school year. Because they have a new captain, Cedric Diggory-"

The three ball chasers, Angelina, Aria and Katie, suddenly giggled.

"What's wrong?" Wood frowned at them, not too pleased with the carefree behavior.

"Cedric Diggory is the tall, good-looking boy, right?" Angelina said.

"The physically strong, soft-spoken one." Katie added.

With that, they started giggling again.

Harry sighed, feeling like it really wasn't a surprise at all that Autumn Chang was looking at Cedric.

"He's soft spoken because he's not fierce enough! Quidditch matches need true Mongers like us!" Fred, who grew up in the same village as Cedric, instantly joked.

"There's no need to worry too much Oliver, Cedric is only a first time captain and definitely not as capable as a 'tyrant' like you!" George chimed in.

"How many times have I told you not to be gullible! Not to mention facing the defending champions from last school year!" Wood shouted at the grinning twins so loudly that his eyes both looked slightly protruding. "Diggory has organized the squad with a strong lineup, nothing less than what the last captain organized!"

"On top of that, he's an excellent ball finder! I don't know exactly what Harry's form is at the moment, but I do know that even if he gets back to his best he won't necessarily be able to overpower Diggory! That's why we have to fight hard, we have to win!"

"Oliver, don't get your panties in a twist," Fred and George hurriedly patted their chests at the sight of Wood's serious demeanor, "We'll do our best against the Hufflepuffs, we promise!"

...

The morning before the match was windy and rainy.

The weather was even worse than the previous day's training. The hallways and classrooms were so dark that Filch had to light more torches and lights.

The Gryffindor common room seemed louder than outside because it was in a towering tower and the storm pounded on the windowpanes.

Harry woke early to the sound of the thunderstorm and looked to the rain-soaked, molded windows.

He knew he couldn't expect the match to be canceled - Quidditch matches in the wizarding world were never canceled for something as trivial as a thunderstorm.

Even though he had known this for a long time, Harry still felt a little scared, as if there was an ominous premonition lingering in the back of his mind.

He got out of bed and sat in front of the fireplace ruminating.

It occurred to him that seekers in Quidditch matches were usually lithe, agile sorts of people, and that Diggory was a little taller than the usual seeker, but his weight was a factor in his favor in this kind of weather, as he wouldn't be blown off his feet by the gusty winds.

Harry didn't have time to keep rambling, though, because Crookshanks, the hybrid cat beaver that Hermione kept, had been pining for Ron's mouse, Spotty, and had been secretly butting up the stairs of the boys' dormitory from time to time.

He had to get up every now and then during his ramblings and nuzzle Crookshanks' soft stomach to put him back in the common room.

Finally, when it was almost breakfast time, he walked alone toward the doorway of the portrait guard.

"Stand still and make war, you shitty dog!" Sir Cadogan yelled, as always, to every little wizard who passed by.

"Oh, shut up." Harry coped with a yawn.

He had gotten used to the foul-mouthed knight, and the curses that came out of the knight's mouth really indicated nothing more than contempt for his dueling opponent and no malice.

After finishing a large bowl of porridge, Harry was slightly more refreshed, and by the time he started eating his toast, the rest of the team had arrived.

"This match is going to be intense." Wood said. He was too nervous to eat anything.

"Don't worry Oliver," Angelina reassured him, "We don't care if there's a little bit of rain, we train in it all the time."

But it wasn't just a little bit of rain, they had never trained in this much rain.

Yet even with this hellish weather, the entire school had poured out as usual to watch the first Quidditch game of the semester. It was complete proof that Quidditch was indeed extremely popular in the wizarding world, where entertainment was expensive and scarce.

Teachers and students trotted across the lawn towards the Quidditch pitch, keeping their heads down against the gusting wind - this was because halfway across the field their umbrellas would be blown out of their hands by the wind.

But one of the umbrellas, a solid black one, showed no signs of damage, quietly propped open against the howling storm.

Dracula walked through the torrential rain with his umbrella, and all the raindrops that were tilted by the wind would automatically reverse their direction when they were about to touch his robes and drip down to the ground instead.

As a result, there was no place on his lapel that was wet from the rain, and he looked out of place with the woeful little wizards.

"Sure enough, as long as it's not sunny, Professor Dracula is still more than willing to come to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of fun." Harry thought to himself as he looked enviously at Dracula's unblemished wet-stained robes.

Finally carrying the storm into the Gryffindor team's locker room, the team members couldn't wait to change out of their soggy clothes and into the college's big red Quidditch uniforms, and instantly felt better.

... It wouldn't be more than a few minutes though, and when the game started, their clothes would still be wet when they should be.

After changing into their uniforms, the players lined up and waited for the pre-match pep talk that Wood, as captain, had always given.

But to no one's surprise, Wood tried to open his mouth several times to speak, but only made the odd breathless sound, unable to speak any of his once grandiose words.

Eventually, he shook his head hopelessly and beckoned everyone to join him on the pitch.

He'd already led Gryffindor to a Quidditch Cup, and there was really no need to be demanding of anything in his final year at Hogwarts; as long as he did his best, the outcome was rather no big deal ...

The wind was blowing so hard that the players walked onto the pitch one by one swaying.

Over the rumbling thunder, even with the crowd cheering them on, they simply couldn't hear them.

The rain hit Harry's glasses hard and he was already worried about how he was going to see the golden flyer in the middle of a raging storm.

By the time the Gryffindor team members had made their way to the center of the pitch, the Hufflepuff team, also dressed in canary-like yellow uniforms, approached them from across the pitch.

The captains of both sides came forward to shake each other's hands, Diggory smiled at Wood and Wood nodded towards him.

The thunder was so loud that the players on both sides couldn't hear Mrs. Hockey.

Fortunately, the players were experienced enough to watch her mouth and wait until she seemed to call out "on the flying broom" before they all got on their brooms.

Harry pulled his right foot out of the mud on the pitch before straddling the Light Wheel 2000.

"All-"

Mrs. Hokey put her whistle to her lips and blew hard, making a shrill whistle that barely penetrated the thunder and howling wind-

The race was on!

Harry rode as fast as he could, but his Lightwheel 2000 wobbled a little unsteadily in the wind. He gripped the sweeping handle as tightly as he could and turned to charge into the storm.

...

Dracula sat on a raised platform in the audience with his umbrella, looking over the stadium in boredom.

Of all the seats around him, the one he was in was the only one that was dry.

"Say, can you guys really see the state of the game overhead when you're watching so intently?" Dracula asked as he casually grabbed a nearby small wizard who was intently watching the game.

This little wizard was obviously an avid Quidditch fan, staring high into the sky with his eyes wide open even when it was raining heavily, afraid of missing any bit of the details of the match, unwilling to blink even when the rain was hitting the inside of his eyes.

"Ah, Professor Dracula." The little wizard seemed to have just realized that Dracula was sitting right next to him, scratching his soaked hair in some embarrassment, "Actually, I couldn't see much, I could only see a few small black dots, and I don't know if they are birds or players ..."

"That's all you're still looking so into it?" Dracula looked at him speechlessly, "I am not feeling any pleasure from this game at all, isn't this pure torture?"

"You can't say that!" The young wizard subconsciously amplified his voice and retorted, "Quidditch matches in inclement weather are the most testing situation for a player's willpower and skill there is, and a victory in such a match is far more admirable than a victory in regular weather ..."

Before he could finish, he saw Dracula's less than pleased expression and his tone became a little weak again, "I ... I didn't mean to say it so loud, I'm sorry Professor Dracula ... "

"Never mind, there's really something incomprehensible about a group like fans." Dracula lost his smile and shook his head, gently snapping his fingers.

All the young wizards in the audience were originally still trying to keep their eyes open, trying to avoid the rain from affecting their sight. However, out of nowhere, they realized that the raindrops in the sky had switched places and descended, as if they had purposely bypassed their eyes.

Dracula watched the bewildered expressions of the young wizards gradually transform into excitement, tantalizingly evoking a smile.

Dumbledore, who was also watching the match not far away, glanced in surprise towards the audience where Dracula was, and a trace of an amused smile appeared on his face as well.

"Obviously very understanding of the others, what's the usual pretense of indifference?" He laughed lightly and shook his head.

...

High in the air, Harry was still trying to fly and had no idea how long the match had been going on.

He was soaking wet and frozen stiff, and it was hard to see his teammates, let alone the tiny golden flyer.

Zipping across the stadium, he swept past the red and yellow figures of a molded lake, completely unable to see exactly how the game was going. He couldn't even hear the comments of the spectators either in the howling wind.

Both times Harry came close to being touched off his flying broom by the wandering ball. The rain was so heavy that he couldn't see them coming from the opposite direction.

Slowly his arms became sore and it seemed harder and harder to keep the broom flying in a straight line.

The sky was getting darker and darker, as if the night had decided to come early.

Harry came close to crashing into another player a couple of times and wasn't sure if it was one of his teammates or an opposing player. Everyone was soaked now, and the rain was so dense that it was impossible for him to see the Golden Flyers ...

"Dudu-"

Mrs. Hodge's whistle blew with the first flash of lightning.

Harry could just make out the silhouette of Wood in the dense curtain of rain, and Wood was beckoning Harry to come down to the ground.

The whole team then descended into the mud of the ground with rain splattered all over them.

"I called time out!" Wood yelled to the team over the sound of rain and thunder, "Come on, get down there-"

They huddled under a large umbrella on the side of the field. Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hastily on his soaked robes, which looked as if they were getting even dirtier.

"What's the score?" He asked hurriedly.

"We're up by fifty points," Wood said, "but the score can't be too far apart, it's still up to the finder."

"I can hardly see my way around with my glasses on, let alone catch the Golden Flyers." Harry said chagrined as he waved his glasses around.

Just then, Hermione came running from nowhere she was top of her cloak and squeezed under the large umbrella at the side of the pitch, and with a smile on her face.

"I have an idea Harry!" She said excitedly, "Give me your glasses, quick!"

Harry was puzzled but handed her his glasses out of trust.

Hermione tapped Harry's glasses with her wand as the entire team watched in amazement and read:

"Waterproof and Wetproof (Imperuious)!"

"There!" She said, handing the glasses back to Harry, "It's a water and fire spell, now the rain won't get in the way of your glasses!"

After the pause was over, the players on both sides flew back into the dense rain.

Hermione's spell had worked. Although the two things of being cold, numb and soaked still hadn't been resolved, Harry could definitely see.

With renewed vigor and determination, he urged his Lightwheel 2000 through the turbulent air currents, looking in every direction for the golden flyer.

There was one burst of thunder after another, followed by different shapes of lightning. The situation high in the sky was becoming more and more dangerous, and Harry knew he had to catch the golden thief as soon as possible.

So he turned menacingly, trying to get back to the center of the pitch.

But just then, another thick bolt of lightning lit up the stands-

Harry saw something that distracted him completely: the silhouette of a huge black dog covered in coarse fur, a silhouette that was reflected clearly in the sky as it stayed in a row of empty seats in the highest tier of the stands.

He thought of something the professor of the divination class he had taken this semester, Sybil Trelawney, had said-

"'Ominous,' my dear boy, 'ominous'!" Prof. Trelawney saw his divination in class and exclaimed in shock, "The big, spooky dog that roams the graveyard! My dear boy, this is the evil omen ... of the worst omen ... of death!"

He thought again of the huge black dog he had seen before he met Tonks when he ran away from home.

How had this black dog appeared again today in a ghostly manner?

Harry's numb hands slipped on his flying broom and his Lightwheel 2000 plummeted a few feet down.

He brushed the soaking sea of streams away from his eyes and couldn't help but get distracted again, squinting over to the stand, only to realize that the black dog had disappeared at some point.

"Harry!" Wood's distressed yell came from the Gryffindor goal, "Harry, seriously, look behind you!"

Harry looked back in alarm to see Cedric hurtling continuously over the pitch, a small golden patch flickering in the rain-drenched air, between them ...

It was the golden flyer!

In a panic, Harry crouched full-body on his flying broomstick and spun around to sprint towards the golden flash.

"Go for it!" He yelled into his Lightwheel 2000, letting the rain slap his cheeks, "Faster! Faster!"

However, something strange suddenly happened.

In the midst of a scene that should have been filled with the sound of wind, crackling rain, and thunder, there was a precipitous silence.

The wind, though still as strong as before, forgot to howl, as if it were an old television set and someone had turned the sound off abruptly; or as if Harry had suddenly gone deaf ...

He had a premonition that something bad was about to happen!

The next moment, a strange and familiar, terrifying chill came at him, fiercely racing inside his body, and only then did he just realize that something was moving over the pitch ...

Harry couldn't think fast enough to take his eyes off the golden flyer and look to the side.

There were at least a hundred Dementors hovering in the air, their faces hidden beneath their hoods pointed at him. It was as if frozen water had risen from his chest, cutting into his insides.

Then he heard the same sound he had heard once before on the train - someone moaning, moaning inside his head ... It was a woman ... The woman's voice was eerily familiar ...

"Don't move Harry. Don't move Harry ... Please don't ever move Harry!"

"Step aside you stupid woman ... step aside now ..."

"Don't move Harry, please don't, not unless you kill me first ... kill me now ..."

Harry's brain seemed to go numb and fall into a white fog ...

He subconsciously wanted to help the woman, she was about to die ... she was about to be murdered ...

Meanwhile, Harry was still falling downward, falling through that icy mist.

"Don't move Harry! Please don't move ... Have mercy ... Have mercy ..."

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew nothing more.

Before he slipped into a complete coma, he saw a blinding silver light take over the entire Quidditch pitch and a voice of suppressed rage resonated through the sky as if the rain and thunder had stopped for the voice to move.

"You disgusting things, who the hell gave you permission to enter Hogwarts?!"