The storm grew fiercer, a bone-chilling cold sweeping through the Quidditch pitch as darkness blanketed the stadium. Augustus sensed a peculiar and ominous danger nearby, as though something malevolent was drawing closer. The game resumed, with Harry and Cedric darting through the air. Gryffindor held a slight advantage, leading by fifty points. However, if Diggory caught the Golden Snitch, the match could reverse in an instant. Until the final moment, the outcome remained uncertain.
Thunder roared, followed by a fork of lightning. In such stormy weather, the risks for the Quidditch players were considerable. If the match didn't end soon, continuing under such harsh conditions would be unwise. Madam Hooch, the referee, glanced anxiously at the sky, prepared to call off the game at any moment.
"The Golden Snitch seems to have appeared," Sol remarked, his sharp eyes piercing through the darkness. Following his gesture, Augustus and the others spotted a glimmer of gold flickering in the air. Cedric dived sharply toward it, while Harry, startled, clung to his broomstick and spiraled toward the Snitch.
The crowd noticed the extraordinary movements of the two Seekers, their attention instantly fixated on them. The decisive moment was at hand, and the atmosphere grew tense. But then, something strange happened.
A fearful silence descended over the tiered stands surrounding the pitch. The wind, still as strong as before, seemed to forget how to howl, as though someone had muted its sound. An intense cold permeated the stadium, chilling everyone to the core. Across the field, a tide of pitch-black shadows began surging forward like a dark wave.
"What is that?" Malfoy's voice trembled as he pointed toward the indistinct mass in the darkness. A fear unlike anything he had ever felt emanated from the shadows, as though they were the very essence of hatred and dread.
Augustus's silver eyes burned with twin crimson flames as a comforting warmth radiated from his body. A red glow surrounded him, brilliant and radiant like the sun. The darkness and cold in the stands seemed to retreat, replaced by waves of warmth spreading through the air.
"Dementors," Augustus muttered with a note of disgust, drawing his silver wand. At least a hundred of the hooded creatures stood below, their faces hidden beneath their hoods, turned upward. High in the air, Harry suddenly tumbled from his broomstick, plummeting like a kite with a broken string. His frail body accelerated through the wind, eliciting gasps of alarm from the stands. Augustus waved his wand, conjuring an enormous invisible hand that caught Harry mid-fall and gently lowered him onto the pitch.
"It seems the lesson on the train wasn't enough for you. Now you dare intrude into the school itself to hunt for food. What a pack of insatiable fools." Augustus's icy tone carried a trace of mockery, his eyes glinting with faint murderous intent.
Raising his wand, a dazzling light suddenly flashed across the sky. A massive magical array appeared—a complex and intricate design glowing like a giant radiant disc. It began to rotate clockwise in the darkened sky. Students and teachers alike stared in awe at the phenomenon, their eyes wide with astonishment. A commanding presence filled the air, dominating the heavens.
As the array turned, the world grew bright. Neither the storm nor the mist could obscure the brilliance that seemed to tear open the heavens. A divine light enveloped the stadium. The Dementors, uneasy under its glow, shifted restlessly. Many began sliding toward the edges of the field, seemingly intent on leaving.
"Trying to escape now? Too late." Augustus sneered, pointing his silver wand skyward. A shimmering thread connected it to the glowing array. The magical disc ceased its rotation, and an outpouring of brilliant, sacred symbols rained down like a luminous storm. Each glowing sigil struck the Dementors, causing them to disintegrate like ice exposed to fire. Their anguished wails filled the air as nearly half of their number melted away completely in the radiant deluge.
"A forbidden secondary incantation—quite effective," Augustus remarked coldly, a faint smirk on his lips. With a wave of his hand, the light gradually faded. The magical array dissolved, and everything returned to normal. What remained were the stunned students and faculty, alongside Quidditch players rendered speechless by their proximity to the extraordinary display of magic.
Madam Hooch recovered from her shock and, somewhat dazed, blew her whistle to signal the end of the match. Remarkably, Cedric had proven himself a diligent Seeker. Even during the celestial spectacle of the magical array, he had seized the opportunity to capture the Golden Snitch, clinching victory for his team. Perhaps his training in the Duelling Club under Augustus had steeled his focus, allowing him to maintain his professional composure.
"Is this also magic? Then what on earth have we been learning at school?" Hermione, the ever-curious scholar, could no longer maintain her composure. Even she, accustomed to Augustus's overwhelming power, was left in awe of the divine and destructive force of the Sacred Light Incantation. Representing the righteous path, this magic also embodied absolute judgment and the eradication of evil.
For the gathered students and teachers, this level of magic—manipulating the heavens and earth and enforcing divine retribution—transcended the ordinary swish of a wand. Its majesty rivaled the realm of miracles. Such magic seemed fit only for legend. As it bared its fangs, the spectators could only marvel, reduced to mere mortals gazing upon an unreachable truth.
Perhaps the only consolation was that this man, Augustus, belonged to Hogwarts and shared their side.
Many began to wonder: if Augustus had been born decades earlier, would the wizarding world still have been defined by the era of Dumbledore and Voldemort? A true genius's light could not be dimmed, no matter the era. For some, not living in the same time as Augustus might be both a blessing and a regret. After all, like colliding stars, brilliance shines brightest when they meet. The sky can have only one sun. A king does not tolerate rivals. Such, perhaps, is destiny.
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