Chapter 115: Cold Defeat

Harry finished the exotic-flavored noodle soup and felt warm all over. When Wood walked into the Great Hall, he said confidently to him, "I don't care about this bit of rain at all."

After all, the Quidditch match was much more important than the rain. But when they ran toward the grass of the Quidditch pitch, they couldn't help but hunch their backs to resist the violent wind, and the umbrellas in their hands were all carried away as if they were about to fly. Before Harry entered the lounge, he saw the other eight members of the Torchwood, who were laughing and walking under a huge umbrella in the stands, waving at him as they walked.

The team members changed into their deep red robes, waiting for Wood's pre-match pep talk, but he didn't speak. He tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but swallowed the words back, then shook his head in disappointment and beckoned the team members to go out with him.

The wind on the pitch was so strong that they were staggering and stumbling even while walking. If the crowd's cheering couldn't drown out the thunder, they wouldn't even be able to hear it. The rain also had a great impact on visibility; catching the Snitch in this situation would become quite difficult.

Hufflepuff was walking over from the other end of the pitch, wearing canary-yellow robes. The captains of both sides stepped forward to shake hands politely; Cedric smiled at Wood, but Wood didn't smile back; he looked as if he had tetanus, nodding blankly. Harry saw Madam Hooch start to speak, completely unable to hear what was being said, but he knew it was time to mount the brooms.

Harry quietly pulled his right foot out of the mud and straddled his Firebolt. Madam Hooch put the whistle to her lips, and then a sharp sound was emitted; the match began.

Harry rose quickly, but his Firebolt was blown slightly off course by the wind. He managed to keep it stable and entered the rain at an angle.

Harry was now wearing the goggles he had made last year to deal with the Basilisk; he was certain these were modified from swimming goggles, and the raindrops couldn't hit his eyes at all. Plus a beautiful Waterproofing Charm, Harry could at least see things clearly.

But thin and dense rain threads filled his vision, and he was soaked all over, almost frozen stiff, and his spirit was also a bit poor.

Harry flew back and forth on the pitch, looking through the rain at those blurry red or yellow shapes. He could only guess what happened to the other players in the match, because he couldn't hear the commentary due to the wind. He could only barely keep his eyes on a yellow figure that should have been Cedric, while trying his best to search for the tiny Snitch.

The crowd hid their broken umbrellas under a sea of cloaks. Harry got too close twice and almost crashed into the goalposts.

He didn't know how long the match had been going on; keeping the broom steady was becoming increasingly difficult. The sky was darker than before, as if it were about to be night. Madam Hooch's whistle came with the first flash of lightning; Harry could barely see Wood's outline through the heavy rain, and he made a gesture toward the ground. All the team members stepped into the muddy water.

"I call for a timeout!" Wood roared at his team members: "Hurry up and come over, gather here..."

They huddled together under a large umbrella at the edge of the pitch, Harry kept rubbing his almost numb hands, trying to warm them up.

"How is the score now?"

"Thirty to eighty, we are leading," Wood said, "We aren't afraid even if it drags on; Gryffindor's rainy-day operations are the best."

"I'll still try my best to find the Snitch; I don't want to play until night in this weather." Harry said with distress.

"It doesn't matter, Cedric looks like he's misfiring too." Wood said. "He's even more uncomfortable than you; at least you have tactical goggles."

"Right, you go and actively operate against him." Fred suggested, "Give him pressure, find him for a duel, force him to make unforced errors."

"Even if you don't find the Snitch, you can consume his energy." George said, "Don't worry about us, we have the advantage."

"Right, in this weather, everyone doesn't have much room to perform; it's just a comparison of determination and courage." Wood patted Harry on the shoulder.

Harry was filled with new determination. He urged his broom in the violent air, scanned the pitch once, and then took the initiative to fly below Cedric, starting to induce him to gamble with him.

Following the light of the forked lightning, the thunder roared again. The weather was getting worse and worse; Harry had to slow down the intensity of his operations and instead slowly searched for the Snitch.

He turned his body and flew back toward the center of the pitch, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that completely distracted him—the side profile of a fluffy black dog, its traces could be clearly seen from mid-air, right in the empty seats in the highest row of the stands.

The dog disappeared quickly, Harry shook his head and scanned the surroundings nimbly again.

A black dog might not mean bad luck, Harry thought with surprise. He saw a small golden spot flashing in the rain, but beyond the Snitch, he also saw Cedric's face, which was equally full of surprise.

I must operate against him, Harry thought secretly. He gripped the handle of the broom tightly and saw the Snitch gradually expanding directly in front of him.

"Let's see who is faster." Although the rain whipped his cheeks, he still drove his Firebolt with all his might, "I have tactical goggles, I'm not afraid of him at all in a duel."

But something unexpected happened. A grotesque silence enveloped the entire pitch. The wind was still as strong as before, roaring as if it wanted to forget something. But suddenly someone turned off all the sounds; Harry felt as if he had become deaf... what exactly happened?

Then a familiar and terrible chill invaded him; in his heart, he knew something was moving under the pitch...

Before he understood, Harry's eyes left the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors, their covered faces aimed upward at him, were standing right below him. It felt as if ice water was rising from his chest, cutting off his thoughts. When he could hear again... it seemed someone was screaming, the screaming sound drilled into his head... a woman...

"No, Harry, no, Harry, please don't, Harry!"

"Step aside, you stupid girl... step aside, now..."

"No, Harry, please don't do this, take me instead, come and kill me..."

A numbness, Harry's brain was filled with swirling white mist... what was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her... she was about to die... she was throwing her life away...

He was falling, falling into the cold, cold mist.

"No, Harry! Please... have mercy on him... have mercy on him..."

A sharp sound was laughing, and a woman was screaming, and then Harry lost consciousness.

"Fortunately, the ground is soft."

"I thought he was definitely dead."

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

Harry could hear those whispers, but couldn't understand anything. He had no clues, or understanding of where to start, or what he had been doing before this. The only thing he knew was that every inch of his body hurt as if he had been beaten up.

"This is the most terrible thing I've ever seen in my life."

The most terrible thing... the most terrible thing... that black figure... the cold... the screaming...

Harry's eyes opened suddenly. He was in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team members, each covered in mud from head to toe, were gathered by his bed. His other friends were also there; they all looked as if they had just crawled out of a swimming pool.

"Harry!" Fred's face under the mud looked extremely pale. "How do you feel?"

Harry's memory seemed to return quickly. Lightning... match... Snitch... and Dementors...

"What happened?" he said, and they all suddenly gasped.

"You fell," Fred said: "Probably... probably... fifty feet high?"

"We thought you were definitely dead." Alicia said, trembling all over.

Hermione let out a small squeak, her eyes filled with blood.

"But what is it like now," Harry said: "What happened? We didn't lose, did we?"

No one spoke. The terrible fact was like a stone sinking in Harry's heart.

"Cedric caught the Snitch," George said: "Right after you fell. He didn't know what happened at the time. Later, when he returned to the ground and saw your situation, he thought there should be a rematch. We haven't decided yet."

"Where is Wood?" Harry said, seeing Wood standing in the crowd.

"No rematch." Wood said as if he had made a great decision, "The Dementors suddenly breaking into the pitch was indeed an accidental event, but everyone was affected by them at the time. Cedric won very fairly."

"This isn't an excuse; Gryffindor can't let people mock us." He continued, "The original intention of us playing the match was for honor; we can't give up honor to win the match."

"I'm very sorry, I..." Harry lay on the bed, trying hard to squeeze out a few words.

"It doesn't matter, the season has just begun, we still have many opportunities." Angelina comforted him, "And the final score was 120 to 220; we didn't lose by much."

"We still retain hundreds of possibilities to win the championship, as long as we play well next. I will go to the professor to reflect; next time, we must not let the Dementors break in again." Wood patted him on the shoulder.

"No, next time I must learn the Patronus Charm, no matter what, I must learn it." The Dementors evoked too many bad memories for Harry; he didn't want to endure these ghosts anymore. ===== CHAPTER 116 =====