The Bard of Hogwarts

Chapter 171 The Dementor Attack and the Changes in Flames

Under the gloomy sky, dark clouds piled up heavily like splashed ink, obscuring the last ray of sunlight.

The air was thick with the smell of dampness and decay, as if even the wind had stopped flowing, with only the distant rumble of thunder adding to the oppressive stillness.

Suddenly, the train stopped without warning, and the lights on the roof went out abruptly, plunging the entire train into darkness.

Of course, except for one particular cubicle where candles had been lit beforehand.

The faint candlelight illuminated the small cubicle.

"Have we arrived?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"The train must have broken down. Even though it's dark outside, it's only 5:30."

Hermione raised her smooth wrist, on which was a delicate women's watch.

Just then, a bone-chilling cold swept in from all directions, causing everyone to shiver involuntarily.

"Damn the weather, it's only September..." Ron tightened his robe.

At that moment, Ino drew her wand and slowly stood up: "We chatted for a bit, and I almost forgot about them. You all stay in your cubicles and don't let the candles go out; there are Dementors outside!"

As he spoke, he pushed open the door and walked out.

When Ron heard the word "Dementor," he shuddered again and turned to press his face against the glass to look outside.

In the distant sky, a large number of floating figures appeared silently. They were like ghosts stripped of all color, their shapes blurry and distorted, wandering among the clouds.

These figures appeared even more terrifying against the backdrop of the rain. They hovered above the train like monsters reaping souls, sending chills down one's spine.

It seems Ron wasn't the only one looking out. If you looked at the train from the outside, you'd see little wizards perched on every window of the carriage, all staring out in terror.

Immediately, the entire train was thrown into chaos.

But the panic and noise were fleeting, for they felt an extreme chill, as if all beauty and hope were about to vanish. In this despair, even shouting and struggling seemed futile, and the carriage fell silent once more.

Ino was also affected. Walking down the aisle of the train carriage, he felt a long-forgotten fear. It was the orphanage from his childhood. During a flu outbreak in winter, he was isolated in the storage room, but the children in the orphanage always called it: the death room.

Due to the lack of medicine, children suffering from infectious diseases had only one option: to be locked in a storage room and wait to die.

The walls of the storage room were covered with various graffiti, some small handprints, others distorted names. But due to the passage of time, the graffiti also displayed various colors, some dark red, others blackish purple.

It must be a terrible feeling to be locked in a storage room, lying on the cold floor waiting to die.

Now, he realized that he might have underestimated Dementors. These monstrous creatures that feed on emotions seemed to be natural predators of wizards, almost like deliberately designed natural enemies.

However, in his contemplation, Ino also failed to notice his own transformation.

If there were a mirror at this moment, he would surely see that the original amber pupils had disappeared, replaced by ice-blue eyes.

As clear as the sky, as deep as the ocean, yet devoid of any emotion.

If you compare them side by side, you'll find that these eyes seem even more terrifying than those of a Dementor. A Dementor only devours emotions and souls, but at least it retains a living body.

But in its pure, icy blue pupils, not a trace of life could be seen; it seemed to be intent on annihilating all life, sparing no one—not a single life in the sky, the sea, or the land.

In this atmosphere of despair, Ino quietly grasped the magic wand.

Just as he was about to unleash his magic, a faint light suddenly appeared behind him, and he turned his head to look.

Hermione was walking towards them, holding a burning candle in both hands, followed by the other three people in the cubicle: Harry and Ginny walking side by side, and Ron bringing up the rear.

In the candlelight, Hermione's face looked rather beautiful, a combination of courage and trust.

Gazing at the burning candle flame, the icy blue in his eyes faded like the tide, as if frozen ice were quietly melting and dissipating under the heat of the flame.

"Flames are raging!"

Ino raised his wand with one hand, and a burning flame rose from the tip of the wand, just like when he first came to Hogwarts, lighting a torch alone on that slippery and dark path.

In the firelight, the surrounding darkness and despair seemed to be gently dispelled, while at the same time bringing a touch of warmth and peace.

I'm gradually beginning to understand the ancient people's worship of fire. Fire not only protected them from the cold and wild animals, but it also brought them spiritual comfort, allowing them to find hope in despair.

Holding a lit wand, Ino slowly walked through the aisle, like a lamplighter in the rainy night, bringing light to all the little wizards in the carriage.

Each compartment, each carriage.

Wherever the flames passed, the young wizards seemed to be revitalized, and sounds gradually came from the cubicles.

As the first daring young wizard opened a cubicle door, more and more doors opened, and one after another, startled little heads peeked out, curiously observing everything outside.

Everyone witnessed an unforgettable scene: in their most desperate and helpless moment, someone carried a torch, walking through the darkness, bringing a glimmer of hope, however faint.

When they saw the lit candles behind the torches, some people quietly joined in: Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Percy, George, Fred... and even Colin, a second-year student.

Some used fire spells, some used light spells, and some used poorly conjured candles, all following behind.

The light grew brighter and brighter; the crowds gathered in ever greater numbers.

The train wasn't long, but it wasn't just a few carriages either.

The young wizards gathered together, and no one spoke. They all moved forward in silence, inching their way from back to front. As they passed, the lights on the ceiling of each carriage lit up one by one.

Similarly, although Ino walked at the front with her wand in hand, she did not notice the flame at the tip of the wand changing silently.

It seems that only emotions born in the deepest despair are the most sincere and purest.

Everything seems to be moving in a positive direction.

But the story doesn't usually end there, because extreme emotions are both the most deadly poison and the most delicious delicacy for Dementors.

The phrase "like a moth to a flame" is sometimes used not only as an adjective but also as a verb.

The Dementors floating in the sky seemed to have received some kind of command, and suddenly accelerated and swooped down towards the train below.

(End of this chapter)