The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 306 Wolves in Front, Tigers in Back

Chapter 306 Besieged by Wolves and Tigers (4.3K) (2/2)

Just a few dozen seconds after the werewolf chased Harry away, two ear-piercing explosions, as if the space was being forcibly compressed, erupted almost simultaneously above the open space!

"Bang!" "Bang!"

Two figures appeared abruptly in the moonlight and the blood-soaked open space with a slight time difference.

Lin Qi was the first to appear. His black hair swayed slightly in the air currents created by his appearance. His cold gaze was like the most precise searchlight, instantly sweeping across the entire area: the huge pool of blood that was shocking, the huge black dog lying limp in the pool of blood with a weak breath, the clothes scattered on the ground, and the empty surroundings.

Harry and the werewolf have disappeared.

His gaze lingered briefly on the black dog lying in a pool of blood, noticing that although it was severely injured and on the verge of death, it still maintained the form of an Animagus, with its chest rising and falling very faintly.

"Thank goodness, he's not dead."

Lin Qi immediately made a judgment in his mind.

Animagus is forced to revert to human form at the moment of death. The fact that the black dog form is still in place indicates that Sirius Black, although severely injured, has not yet lost vital signs.

This indirectly confirmed his earlier plan—the badge was indeed working, successfully keeping Lupin's primary aggression focused on the wearer, Harry, so that he only severely injured rather than completely tore the "obstacle" black dog at his feet.

Almost at the same moment, Snape also appeared. His black eyes instantly caught the same scene, and with his rich experience and keen observation, he immediately and accurately determined the escape route from the fresh and clear werewolf footprints on the muddy ground and the direction of the broken bush branches.

He flicked his black robe, gripped his wand tightly, and was about to take a step to chase after them.

"Wait!" Lynch's voice wasn't loud, but it was extremely penetrating, instantly stopping Snape's movements.

Snape turned around abruptly, his pale face a mixture of confusion and anger, his eyes sharp as knives, as if questioning Lynch about why he had stopped him.

Lynch spoke rapidly, his logic clear and unambiguous: "Go save Black! He's dying! Only your potions skills can keep him alive for now, until the Auror healers arrive! I'll go after the werewolves and Harry—I'm faster!"

He paused, his gaze meeting Snape's burning, anxious black eyes, and emphasized, "Severus, put aside your personal grudges for now! Dumbledore and I both need Sirius alive! I assure you, I will ensure Harry's ultimate safety."

Immediately afterward, before Snape could respond, he quickly added, "Tell Dumbledore to capture Peter Pettigrew!"

He ran away just now, but it's not too late to catch him! He's a key witness!

Before he could finish speaking, Lynch gave Snape no time to argue or question.

He swayed, and then, "Bang!"

With a loud bang, he appeared at the furthest point in Snape's line of sight, the furthest point where Harry and the others had left their traces.

However, this is just the beginning.

Then, a scene that would make even Snape's pupils shrink occurred: "Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The continuous, almost seamless apparition explosions, like rapid death drumbeats, resounded in the dark night sky!

After appearing once, Lin Qi's figure blurred and disappeared again without stopping, appearing at the next point of vision in the distance. This repeated itself, forming a black lightning bolt that kept jumping forward and tearing through space!

This kind of high-frequency, short-interval continuous phantom teleportation is the ultimate test of a wizard's magical reserves, mental focus, and physical endurance. Even if an ordinary wizard tries such rapid and continuous jumps once, he may be seriously injured or even die due to the instantaneous depletion of magical energy or the tearing force of space.

But for Lynch, it was as natural as breathing, revealing a vast reserve of magical power, as deep and unfathomable as an abyss, and a terrifying, almost instinctive control over magic, far beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

Snape stood frozen for a moment, watching Lynch's extraordinary movements disappear into the distance.

A complex mix of resentment at being commanded, anxiety about Porter's situation, and fear of the absolute power Lynch displayed welled up inside him.

He stared intently in the direction where Lynch had disappeared, then glanced down at the black dog lying in a pool of blood, barely breathing. This was Sirius Black, his nemesis from his student days.

save him?

Snape's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

Ultimately, a deeper sense of helplessness stemming from the overall situation overshadowed all personal grievances.

He let out a low, almost visibly disgusted groan, then abruptly crouched down, his wand swiftly pointing at the black dog's horrific wound. He began chanting a complex and lengthy healing incantation, while simultaneously pulling several small potion bottles from the inner pocket of his robe—

Just as Snape began to treat Black's injuries, another loud bang came from behind him.

Dumbledore's tall figure appeared in the open space.

His silver-white beard and hair shone like a flowing galaxy under the moonlight, and his azure eyes swept across the entire scene in an instant. Snape was lying prone in a pool of blood, the light of his wand steadily enveloping the huge black dog whose abdomen had been almost completely ripped open and whose life was hanging by a thread.

The shocking wound and the dark red stain that almost soaked the ground made Dumbledore's brows furrow immediately, and a deep sense of sorrow and solemnity flashed in his eyes.

He knew perfectly well that beneath the black dog's form lay his former student, a soul who had suffered a twelve-year injustice.

"Severus, how is it? Where's Harry?" Dumbledore's voice remained calm, but with obvious urgency. His gaze quickly swept around, searching for Harry and the werewolf.

Snape didn't even look up, his hands steadily manipulating his wand and potion, his voice cold and rapid, tinged with lingering resentment: "Harry and the werewolf ran towards the woods, and Lynch went after them." He paused, almost gritting his teeth as he added Lynch's most crucial message, "Lynch left a message before he left—that you go and capture Peter Pettigrew, who recently escaped."

"Peter—" Dumbledore repeated the name in a low voice.

He let out a long breath, and his thoughts, which had been somewhat disordered by shock, self-blame, and the sudden crisis, quickly settled and became clear, as if washed by a cold spring.

That signature, all-seeing light of wisdom shone again in his deep blue eyes.

He immediately understood the precision and efficiency of Lynch's arrangement.

Severus was indeed the only person present who had the ability to temporarily keep Sirius alive despite his severe injuries; his profound knowledge of potions and healing magic were unmatched.

Sending him to chase the werewolves would be a waste of medical resources.

Lin Qi arrived at the scene faster than he did and caught up with them earlier.

He is undoubtedly the best choice to deal with the out-of-control werewolf and rescue Harry.

If I rush over there myself, I might not be able to outpace Lynch, and the overlapping tactics might even reduce my efficiency, resulting in a situation where one plus one is less than two.

Therefore, it is reasonable for him to hunt down Peter himself.

Peter Pettigrew, the living traitor who confessed to his crimes, is the most crucial witness to completely clear Sirius's name and fully reveal the truth. He must not be lost!

Peter, who is handed over to the Ministry of Magic alive, would be the best evidence to clear Sirius's name. This task must be accomplished by a reliable and powerful person, and at this moment, no one else is more suitable than him.

All the clues and information were instantly connected and evaluated in Dumbledore's mind, leading him to the same conclusion as Lynch.

Thinking of this, he looked at Snape, who was doing his best to save him and whose face was even paler than usual, with understanding and entrustment in his eyes.

"I understand. Thank you for your hard work, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was gentle yet firm, full of trust. "Hold on, Mr. Scrimgeour's Aurors and healers should be here soon."

Although Dumbledore said "we'll be there soon," both he and Snape knew that it would be at least a few more minutes before they arrived.

As for why the Auror team, which should have been the first to receive orders, lagged behind the three of them.

This was not due to the Aurors being slow to act, but rather to the unique magical environment of Hogsmeade Village.

As the largest pure wizarding village in Britain, many residents and shops in Hogsmeade have installed anti-Apparition charms in and around their properties for privacy and security.

These privately installed magical barriers, like patches of varying sizes, are scattered haphazardly throughout the village, causing even the public street areas to become extremely unstable and filled with unpredictable magical interference.

Performing Apparition in this environment is akin to dancing in a minefield. It requires an extremely profound mastery of spatial magic and powerful control of magical energy to accurately locate and safely traverse these overlapping interference zones.

Ordinary Aurors might be able to skillfully cast this spell in open areas, but in Hogsmeade, they have to rely on the most primitive method of running, which naturally reduces their speed.

This is precisely the key reason why Lynch, Snape, and Dumbledore, these three exceptionally powerful wizards, were able to arrive at the scene first despite being late to the party.

After offering Snape a few words of encouragement, Dumbledore's gaze swept quickly across the clearing and soon landed on a pile of wrinkled clothes in the mud not far away, which were the clothes Peter had been wearing.

He stepped forward, but instead of touching it directly, he gently flicked the clothes with his wand.

"Animagus transformation—" he muttered to himself, instantly realizing how Peter had escaped.

Then, Dumbledore raised the Elder Wand in his hand.

"The trail appears instantly!"

He chanted a spell in a low voice, and a soft, moon-dust-like silver light shone from the tip of his wand, enveloping the pile of clothes and the muddy ground around them.

As the magic took effect, a series of extremely fine, yet now crystal clear, rodent claw marks immediately appeared on the seemingly ordinary ground!

These gleaming silver footprints extended from the pile of clothes. Somewhat unexpectedly, they did not flee towards the more concealed Forbidden Forest or wilderness, but instead meandered towards the most dangerous, yet often safest, place inside Hogsmeade Village, where lights still shone and people had not yet dispersed. For a rat, blending into a human settlement was undoubtedly the best place to hide and gather information.

A knowing and cold glint flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.

Without further hesitation, his tall figure strode forward, following the silver footprint path on the ground that shimmered clearly only in his magical vision.

He moved with incredible speed, his silvery-white beard and hair fluttering in the night wind, like an old hunter following the threads of fate, resolutely walking into the shadowy streets of Hogsmeade Village.

In the open space, only Snape remained, casting his most exquisite healing magic on one of the people he hated most. His heart was filled with cold and complex emotions, but his movements remained steady and precise.

In the distance, the cacophony of shouts and hurried footsteps of the Aurors could be faintly heard; they were finally about to arrive at the scene.

Harry had never run so fast or worked so hard in his entire life.

His lungs felt like they were on fire; every breath was painfully painful as icy air rushed in and out.

My legs felt like they were filled with lead, yet driven by the instinct for survival and the rush of adrenaline, they moved at high speed like a machine.

Behind them, the werewolf's heavy breathing and the sound of its claws digging at the ground were like the death knell, relentlessly pressing in from behind.

Its running speed on all fours far exceeded Harry's two legs, and each pounce was accompanied by a shrill whistling sound as it tore through the air.

But Harry didn't give up.

Thanks to the solid foundation laid by the brutal physical training in the magic research class, which students privately called the "hellish marathon," his endurance, explosiveness, and awareness of his own limits far surpassed those of his peers.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to maintain an astonishing speed.

More importantly, he did not run away in a straight line.

This perilous situation once again spurred his quick wit in battle.

He used the werewolf's speed but its large inertia in a straight-line sprint and slightly clumsy turning, as well as the complex terrain around Hogsmeade—jumping boulders, low bushes, abandoned shacks and fences—to desperately maneuver around it.

He would suddenly veer off course, using the thick tree trunks as makeshift barriers, or even risk sliding down a steep slope, forcing the pursuing werewolves to slow down or change course.

These sudden turns and changes of direction, each time narrowly avoiding the werewolf's claws, bought him precious breathing time.

However, the physical exertion is enormous.

The brief one or two minutes of desperate escape felt longer and more agonizing than a whole day of Quidditch training.

Harry felt like his lungs were about to explode, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest, his vision started to blur with black spots from lack of oxygen, and his steps became unsteady.

Just when he thought he was about to collapse from exhaustion and be torn to shreds by the terrifying monster behind him, a sudden, familiar, and bone-chilling cold descended upon him without warning.

The chill didn't come from the night wind stirred up while running, but rather from the depths of my soul, as if even my blood was about to freeze.

A deep, helpless sense of despair surged up like a tide, almost shattering his last remaining will to live.

Harry shivered and instinctively looked up.

Not far ahead of him, at the bend of the path, a figure draped in a tattered cloak and towering to the ceiling hovered silently. A chilling mist enveloped it, as if it had swallowed even the moonlight.

A Dementor!

Dementors are blocking their way in front, and werewolves are chasing them from behind!

Harry's legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to his knees.

The frantic heartbeat after running at top speed, combined with the cold despair brought by the Dementors, created a physiological nausea and dizziness.

The wand in his hand became incredibly heavy, and images of Ron, Hermione, Hagrid—and the faces of his parents whom he had never truly seen—flashed through his mind.

It’s over.

This thought, like a final judgment, instantly plunged his heart into freezing point.