fantasy novels Chapter 307 Snape Arrives Late
Chapter 307 Snape Arrives Late
Chapter 307 Snape Arrives Late (5K) (1/2)
Just as Harry was frozen in despair because his path was blocked by Dementors, a bloody gust of wind swept behind him!
"roar--!"
The werewolf Lupin caught up, his amber eyes, flashing wildly in the moonlight, instantly locking onto his prey, Harry.
Its powerful hind leg muscles tensed, its sharp claws raised, and it looked as if it was about to pounce again.
However, its attack was only halfway through when its massive, gray-fur-covered body was suddenly pulled back as if by invisible reins!
Its front paws landed heavily on the ground, splashing mud and abruptly halting its momentum.
The enormous head suddenly lifted up and looked ahead, its nostrils flaring as it rapidly sniffed the air for the chilling, bone-deep scent that sent a warning through every cell of its body.
It saw the empty space beneath the suspended, tattered cloak.
A primal, instinctive fear of the deeper darkness and the soul-devourers rang wildly in its beast-dominated brain, like a most primitive alarm bell.
For the first time, a hint of hesitation, even a trace of indescribable fear, appeared in its frenzied amber eyes, beyond hunger and killing intent.
It emitted an unintelligible gurgling sound from its throat, a mixture of threat and unease, and lowered its body slightly in a defensive posture, but no longer moved forward.
Its gaze shifted anxiously back and forth between Harry, who was so close yet so alluring, and the Dementor in the distance, which made its very soul tremble.
Moving forward is the "prey" that is eagerly awaited; moving forward is also a deadly danger.
This contradiction caused it to freeze briefly, only able to anxiously scratch at its claws in place, emitting suppressed growls.
However, this behavior of wanting to attack Harry but hesitating because of the Dementors was interpreted as a provocation by the Dementors' empty perception, which was only filled with the desire to absorb.
The Dementor blocking its path seemed to be enraged—or rather, it had drawn the werewolf into this palpable emotional feast before it.
It was no longer still; the tattered cloak moved without wind, carrying a suffocating chill, and slowly, like an image from a nightmare, drifted away from its original position.
Instead of lowering its altitude to attack Harry, it swept over Harry's head, carrying an even stronger aura of coldness and despair, and pressed down on the hesitant werewolf!
A chilling fear spread like a tangible force, causing even the werewolves to instinctively take a half-step back, baring their teeth and letting out even more anxious roars.
opportunity!
The thought suddenly flashed through Harry's mind.
The Dementors' attention was drawn to the werewolf, and the path ahead seemed to have opened!
He almost took a step forward, his legs trembling, to seize the opportunity and dash out from the side—
However, before he could even catch his breath or move his feet, the surrounding darkness seemed to come alive.
One, two, three —
Silently, as if formed from the shadows themselves, more Dementors emerged from behind the surrounding trees and beside the rocks.
They hovered silently, their tattered cloaks forming a curtain of death, completely blocking all possible escape routes for Harry, creating a cold, desperate encirclement.
Their target seems to extend beyond Harry, also including the werewolf exuding a ferocious yet wizard-like aura in this sudden hunt.
Harry stood frozen in place, his heart feeling as if it were being gripped by a giant, cold hand. The glimmer of hope that had just risen within him shattered instantly, replaced by a deeper, more helpless despair.
First werewolves, then Dementors, and now, a complete and inescapable dead end.
The chill began to penetrate to the bone marrow.
A chilling despair overwhelmed Harry like a tidal wave, but his survival instinct made him raise his wand almost reflexively.
At the same time, the werewolf, driven to the brink of despair, let out a furious roar. It may not understand the nature of the Dementors, but the sensation of sucking souls made it feel the most primal fear and violence.
The attacks occurred almost simultaneously.
The two Dementors that were closest to Harry each had a distinct target: one floated straight toward the werewolf, while the other swooped down toward Harry.
More Dementors hovered slowly outside the encirclement, blocking any gaps, as if waiting to share in this feast.
The Dementor that was facing the werewolf was the first to feel resistance.
The werewolf furiously swung its claws, sweeping across the Dementor's cloak with the force of tearing flesh, but the physical attack was like hitting nothingness, only slightly distorting the shape of the cloak.
On the contrary, the Dementor's cold, life-giving nature calmed the werewolf's ferocious aura. Even its bestial eyes showed a kind of confusion and pain, as if deprived of the thrill of the hunt, and its movements became sluggish.
stiff.
The one facing Harry had already opened its rotten, viscous, and chilling "mouth," hidden in the shadow of the cloak.
O
That familiar, soul-chilling cold instantly gripped Harry. He felt like he was suffocating, and his most painful memories flashed through his mind—the image of his parents collapsing in the green light, the Dursleys' rejection and coldness, the malicious whispers of his classmates—happiness seemed to be swiftly sucked out of his body.
"No—call upon the gods—call upon the gods for protection!" He shouted the incantation with all his might, his voice trembling.
A bright, yet unstable, silver light emanated from the tip of the wand.
It thrashed and twisted violently, trying to coalesce into some specific form, vaguely revealing the outline of a huge animal, perhaps a male deer, like the form of his father, Animagus.
However, the silver light could never take stable shape; it was more like a fiercely burning silver flame, barely holding back Harry from the Dementors.
The silver light collided with the darkness and coldness surrounding the Dementor, producing a faint sizzling sound, like cold water dripping into hot oil.
The Dementor's swooping momentum was halted by the vibrant light. Its empty "face" seemed to turn towards the light, carrying a sense of disgust mixed with an even stronger greed. Harry could feel his magic, strength, and even willpower being rapidly depleted. Just maintaining this incomplete Patronus was already making him sweat profusely and his legs weak.
He couldn't defeat it and could only manage a stalemate.
Not far from the heart of this chaos and despair, in the dense shadow of an ancient oak tree, Lynch stood silently, as if truly blending into the darkness.
Even before Harry had caught a glimpse of the Dementor blocking his path and before the chill had fully gripped his heart, Lynch had already silently arrived.
The sound emitted by the werewolf itself perfectly masked the extremely slight spatial disturbance caused by apparition.
He arrived, but made no sound or move; he simply blended into the darkness, becoming a cold observer.
He watched quietly.
Watching the werewolf fighting the Dementor, its ferocious beastly nature was quickly stripped away under the cold power of soul absorption, its movements became slow and stiff, and finally it let out a unwilling but powerless wail before its huge body crashed to the ground, leaving only its muscles still twitching unconsciously.
He watched quietly.
Watching the silver light at the tip of Harry's wand struggle fiercely, trying to take shape, flicker like a candle in the wind under the ever-increasing pressure of the Dementors' chill, its range constantly compressed and its light growing dimmer.
Watching that incomplete guardian spirit finally let out a silent wail before being completely annihilated in the deeper darkness.
He watched quietly.
Watching the boy, now without his last barrier, tremble violently as the Dementors surrounded him and greedily sucked away at his cold body. His face turned ashen, like that of a dead man, and the light in his pupils was gradually replaced by despair and emptiness. Finally, he collapsed softly to the ground, his life force as faint as a dying ember.
Throughout the entire process, Lynch's body, hidden in the shadows, was taut like a fully drawn bow.
His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles made a faint sound of strain, and his sharp nails had already dug deep into his palms. Warm liquid, like blood, slowly seeped out from between his fingers and dripped onto the humus under his feet, bringing a sharp stinging pain.
But he remained motionless.
Like a cold, unyielding rock, he allowed the waves of despair to devour the last glimmer of light before him.
As more Dementors join this "feast," their ability to draw pleasure and life force intensifies dramatically.
Harry's trembling gradually subsided, his struggling arms fell limply to his sides, and his once stubborn and vibrant emerald green eyes began to lose focus, shrouded in a gray shadow.
He lay limp on the cold ground like a doll whose soul had been ripped out, his breath so faint it was almost imperceptible.
In the shadows, the chill in Lin Qi's eyes reached its peak, like the unmelting ice of the polar regions.
He clearly sensed that these Dementors had not kept their promise; their greed had exceeded the warning, and they were trying to cross the line and devour the feast before them in one gulp.
Sure enough—to make a deal with these monsters who only have instincts is like asking a tiger for its skin.
Fortunately, I never truly placed my hopes on their ability to keep their promises.
Just as Harry's life was about to be completely extinguished, Lynch's lips moved slightly, and he quickly recited a few obscure syllables in a barely audible voice. At the same time, he made a simple and ancient hand gesture in front of him, and then pointed at Harry from a distance.
The next second, the unremarkable Stone Tower Merchant Guild emblem in the inner pocket beneath Harry's wizard robes seemed to be activated by an invisible force.
A thin layer of black aura, almost imperceptible to the naked eye yet carrying an absolute sense of "isolation," quietly emanated, like a protective shield that instantly enveloped Harry's entire body.
The Dementors, who were greedily bending down, suddenly stopped!
Their empty "faces" seemed to display anthropomorphic confusion and rage.
They could "see" Harry was there, and feel the alluring life force remaining in his body, but when they tried to draw on it as usual, they found themselves encountering an invisible, smooth, and cold "wall"!
Happiness, hope, and even vitality—everything they craved—was firmly blocked behind this thin layer of black mist, and not a single bit could be absorbed by them!
They circled around Harry restlessly, their icy chill futilely battering the black barrier, producing a sickeningly faint sound like fingernails scraping glass, yet they could not break through.
After confirming that Harry was temporarily out of danger of being drained dry under the protection of the badge, Lynch's tense nerves relaxed slightly for a moment, and his clenched fist loosened a little, the stinging sensation in his palm becoming more and more obvious.
His gaze then swept to the werewolf lying on the other side.
Lupin, in his werewolf form, remained lying in the same spot, his massive body undulating slightly, showing that he was still stubbornly alive.
The Dementor's draining power was equally effective against it, but its cursed, superhuman vitality and natural resistance to magic became its last line of defense.
It had lost its ability to move and was weak, but its life force was not as fragile as Harry's, and it was not in immediate danger of death.
After quickly assessing the status of the two key "targets" on site, Lynch slowly turned his head and turned his gaze toward the direction of Hogsmeade Village.
His gaze returned to its deep and calm state; all the groundwork had been laid, and only the final act remained.
Now, all he needs to do is wait for the most important person to appear.
After pouring the last dose of potent Blood-Regenerating Potion into the black dog's throat and temporarily sealing the gruesome wound with a Solidification Charm, Snape stood up abruptly without even waiting for the healer to confirm the effect.
Without bothering to wash the blood off his hands, he coldly told Rufus-Scrimgeour and the group of Aurors who rushed over, "Keep an eye on him, don't let him die." Then, his black robes billowed, and he became like a black shadow, heading straight for the darker wilderness and woodland outside Hogsmeade—the direction where Harry and the werewolves had disappeared.
With his keen sense of the darkness and a fleeting glimpse of the direction Lynch had last left in, he knew exactly where he was going. He ran along the edge of the village, through weeds, gravel, and gullies, with a small, efficient stride that was almost like a smooth walk.
He couldn't perform continuous apparitions over extremely long distances, ignoring terrain, like Lynch; that required an almost tyrannical reserve of magical energy and absolute control over the laws of space.
He could only rely on his own two legs to chase after the increasingly dense aura of darkness on the ground.
He was incredibly fast, leaving the Aurors behind him, who were ordered to follow but had to carefully navigate the complex terrain outside the village, far behind.
As he ran, his mind raced, a chilling anxiety gnawing at his heart like a venomous snake.
Potter, that reckless, arrogant, and troublemaking little monster, just like his father!
How dare he get involved in these matters!
Now you must face a fully transformed werewolf all by yourself!
Even if you have that little bit of skill—in this desolate wilderness, there's not even any cover!
Damn it!
And Lupin, that useless piece of trash who can't control his own curse!
Did the wolfsbane potion I concocted for him end up in the stomach of a wild dog?!
He actually transformed on a full moon night, right in front of a student!
Damn it! Damn it!
Why hasn't Lin Qi come back yet?
With his abilities, he should have caught up with Harry!
In just a few minutes, Harry couldn't have run very far!
Lupin's werewolf form shouldn't cause him any trouble!
Has anything unexpected happened?
Worry, like cold vines, coiled around his heart, suffocating him.
He had witnessed the destructive power of werewolves and knew all too well how deadly a Remus Lupin who had lost his mind would be in the open.
Every second of delay could mean irreversible consequences—Lily's child—
However, despite this turbulent anxiety, he still maintained a basic level of composure.
The reason for this is still that man.
Jim Lynch.
The existence known to the world as the "Mist Hangman," whose immense power is now his last resort.
He made promises to himself, and he usually kept them.
This thought made him feel a wave of self-loathing, as if he had betrayed something by placing all his hopes on Lynch.
In the midst of this agonizing interplay of anxiety and cold calculation, Snape rushed up a low slope overlooking part of the woodland ahead, and his anxious gaze suddenly fixed on something!
In the clearing ahead, a far greater number of Dementors than expected formed a moving dark forest, completely surrounding the central area. The intense aura of despair sent chills down his spine even from a short distance away.
At the edge of this circle of Dementors, a huge, solid raven, its entire body made of blazing silver light, is fighting fiercely.
Snape recognized it immediately as Lynch's Patronus.
With each swoop and circle, the powerful silver raven precisely forced back a small area of Dementors, causing them to hiss angrily and retreat in fear.
However, its power cannot cover such a vast area at once.
It was like a highly skilled but understrength general, charging back and forth on the periphery of the encirclement, forcing the Dementors' lines to slowly and reluctantly compress backward, but it could never completely tear open a safe enough gap to reach the core.
Lin Qi stood a little further away with an expression as cold as frost, pointing and controlling the Guardian in the air, his eyes fixed on the center of the Dementors' encirclement.
Following Lynch's gaze, Snape's eyes also pierced through the gaps in the billowing black cloaks.
Instantly, Harry's limp, lifeless figure came into his view.
With a "boom," Snape felt his brain explode.
The sudden surge of anxiety instantly overwhelmed all other thoughts.
Without the slightest hesitation, he strode down the slope, and the instant he stepped into the range of the Dementor's chilling aura, he had already raised his wand high.
The few warm fragments of memories buried deep within his mind struggled to coalesce. They weren't the joy of successfully concocting a potion, the flattery he received at the party, or the satisfaction of achieving fame and success; rather, they were… that girl's smile—
"Protect the Gods!"
Fortune