The Curse | Harry Potter x reader | under editing

chapter eight• dementors ☆

When you all arrived in the great hall, sleeping bags had been laid out for all of you. The night was long and uncomfortable, but you knew it was safest in there.

You all had to wake up earlier than you would have liked, defense against the dark arts started at eight. At least Professor Lupin would be there though, the four of you had grown very fond of him. His father-like demeanor was enticing all, especially to the two without fathers. As you all began to sit down the doors swung open, creaking piercingly. Most students cringed at the high pitch noise prior to craning their necks in the direction of the commotion.

It was Snape, he flicked his wand shutting all the curtains. "Turn to page three hundred ninety four." He sneered, his jet black hair slicked unsightly down the middle.

"Excuse me sir, where's Professor Lupin?" Harry had asked, many resonated in the question due to the Professor being one of the only reasons they enjoy the period.

"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter?
Suffice it to say your professor finds himself incapable of teaching... at the present time.
Turn to page 394." He began,  "Five points from Gryffindor. As an antidote to your ignorance, and on my desk, by Monday morning... two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with emphasis... on recognizing it."

"Sir, it's Quidditch tomorrow." Harry complained, but with little hope "Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter. Loss of limb will not excuse you. Page 394." Snap nipped back monotonously.

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You all were at the quidditch game, Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff. It was pouring rain, terrible playing conditions but Oliver would rather die than cancel quidditch. You stood in the creaky wooden stands, a crimson and gold scarf wrapped around your neck showcasing your house pride. The game had been extremely close, for every goal Griffindor scored, Hufflepuff retaliated.

The snitch was nearly impossible to see, the torrential downpour was relentless in its wrath. Low visibility was an understatement. Harry flew across the pitch madly with Hufflepuff chaser Cedric Diggory on his tail incessantly, utterly unable to shake him.

You and Hermione were cheering at the top of your lungs, it was the only way to stay warm in frigid wet conditions. Harry switched directions and shot up towards the sky, but something was different. Something was wrong. The already freezing temperatures seemed to get colder, the air thinner, light grey clouds turned nearly black. But that's when many began to see it, dementors.

You had lost sight of Harry as he was too far up to see, it was taking too long though..way too long. Many students around you began to point and scream, Harry was tumbling from the sky, his brook no where to be found. The headmaster Dumbledore swiftly stood up in order to save the falling student, and with a quick incantation by Dumbledore, Harry was safely on the ground again. Not quite conscious though.

Before going to tell off the ministry about their rogue dementors, Dumbledore ensured Harry made it to the infirmary wing without casualties. The younger boys friends and teammates trailing not far behind.
Harry wasn't out for too long before he began to come to, his friends voices being the first thing he heard,  "He looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?" Ron said.

"Peaky?"

"What do you expect he fell over a hundred feet." .

"Let's walk you off a tower and see what you look like." George retorted back to his younger brother. "Probably a right sight better than he normally does." Harry said groggily. His friends heads all hastily shot towards him, glad he was awake.  "How are you feeling?" Hermione questioned,  "Oh brilliant." Harry replied sarcastically. "You gave us a right good scare." Said Ron.

"What happened?" Harry implored. "Well, you fell off your broom.." Ron started. "Really? I meant the match. Who won?" Harry interjected.

"No one blames you, Harry. Dementors aren't supposed to be on the grounds. Dumbledore's furious. After he saved you, Dumbledore sent them off." Hermione explained.

"There's something else you should know too. When you fell, your broom sort of blew into the Whomping Willow, and... Well..." Ron trailed off showing Harry his broken broom, not daring to look him in the eyes too long.

"Can I please be left alone." Harry asked curtly, his friends all shuffled out of the room in small groups after saying their goodbyes and get wells, the last to leave being his closest three friends.

Harry sunk aggrievedly into the stiff but pristine bed, he couldn't figure out what he wanted first, to mope over his broom or die to the dementors already, out of embarrassment. His head dropped onto his forearms, sometimes he just wanted to disappear.

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a/n: again a very short chapter I'm sorry deleting all the cringe is hard.