Boom!
Tens of thousands of tons of soil surged upward like a wave on the sea, engulfing the Dementors whose bodies were covered in frost and rendered immobile, and dragged them all beneath the ground.
Then, within a radius of several kilometers, the land itself began to tremble, sweeping the mass of Dementors along with huge amounts of mud and soil deep underground.
The hail and ice spears in the sky turned back into rain, cascading down and mixing with the churning earth as it was driven below.
During this process, Rhys and Helga's magic intertwined, forming a powerful protective barrier over the ground, ensuring that no trace of evil aura could rebound upward.
By channeling the power of their domains, they forced the Dementors a full hundred meters underground. Yet even then, Helga still felt unsatisfied.
She drew in a deep breath, flipped her palm downward, and pressed lightly. The ground where the Dementors were buried sank another fifty meters. Now, the earth was so densely compacted that even a Blasting Curse would struggle to break through.
After this series of actions, a massive pit nearly a hundred meters in diameter appeared abruptly beside the Black Lake. A great force pulled the lake water into the crater, and before long, the pit had become part of the Black Lake itself.
As for the Dementors, it was as if they had never existed.
After tacitly completing this operation with his old friend, Rhys let out a long breath of foul air. At last, the suffocating rage in his chest had been released. If he had kept it bottled up, he was certain he'd have gone mad—madder than Ravenclaw ever was.
He gave a faint hum, then checked the state of the Dementors outside the Quidditch pitch. Finding their emotions stable, the corners of his lips curved upward, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
He could not kill these Dark creatures, but that did not mean he was helpless against them. Dementors, being Dark creatures that still retained a physical form, were actually the easiest to deal with—they could be sealed away through physical means.
The immense pressure underground was a natural prison. Even a dragon would be unable to move under such crushing force.
Seeing the smile on Rhys's face, Daphne and Astoria both let out a sigh of relief.
Judging from his expression, the problem must have been solved—what a relief!
The commotion Rhys and Helga had caused was tremendous. The students in the stands were not deaf; they had all heard the deafening roar not far away and felt the tremors ripple through the pitch.
"Oi—!"
"Careful!"
"What happened?"
A ripple of panic spread through the stadium. The two teams in the sky also halted their match, turning toward the source of the sound.
Unfortunately, the weather was too poor; even at their height they couldn't make out what had happened.
Cedric angled his broomstick and flew toward the noise, intending to risk an investigation. But he had only gone a dozen feet when a flash of gold zipped past him. Instinctively, Cedric raised his hand—and something hard smacked firmly into his palm.
The Golden Snitch!
Cedric froze on the spot. He hadn't expected the Golden Snitch to fall into his hand in such a dramatic fashion!
Up in the stands, Dumbledore's expression grew extremely grave. He looked around, cast a Sonorus Charm on himself, and loudly ordered the students to remain calm.
"Students of all Houses, return to the castle under the guidance of your Heads of House and prefects," Dumbledore said in a tone that brooked no argument. He had intended to announce that the match was suspended, but Madam Hooch's whistle sounded just then.
Glancing at the score board as it automatically shifted, Dumbledore immediately understood what had happened.
"Well then, Mr. Cedric Diggory has caught the Golden Snitch—congratulations to Hufflepuff House. But please, save your celebrations for after you return to the castle!"
The Gryffindor team stood stunned at both the whistle and Professor Dumbledore's words.
Wood's face was etched with disbelief.
Just moments ago, when their team was falling behind, he had still believed Harry could turn things around. Yet in the blink of an eye, the match was over?!
Was he dreaming? Had the bitter cold weather made him hallucinate? But the cheers echoing all around were certainly not illusions.
He descended to the ground in a daze, watching as the Hufflepuff players landed one by one. Their faces shone with joy, though Dumbledore's command forced them to suppress their celebrations. Their solution was simple: clutching their broomsticks, they ran wildly, hopping and skipping, their excitement unquenchable.
No strange explosions, no torrential rain could douse the exhilaration blazing in their hearts.
Once he got closer, Wood finally noticed something unusual about the Hufflepuff players' robes.
So that's it! He slapped his thigh in frustration. Why hadn't he thought of a simple Waterproof Charm?! Their loss wasn't unfair at all—Cedric and his team had simply been better prepared.
Meanwhile, the students were gradually dispersing, all brimming with excitement, with endless chatter bubbling out of them.
Rhys also rose from his seat.
Looking at the rain that still showed no sign of letting up, and sensing the vast amount of magic around him that would ultimately be wasted, he made a decision.
He raised a finger and pointed toward the sky.
At once, all the gathered magic surged upward like boiling steam, rushing into the clouds above. The magic merged with the storm clouds and forcibly halted the rainfall. However, Rhys didn't disperse the clouds themselves. Once his magic faded, the rain would start again—possibly even heavier—but by then, the students would already be back in the castle.
Too bad Rowena isn't here. If she were, the wind would have been stopped too. Rhys curled his lips with a trace of regret, then followed the stream of people leaving the Slytherin stands.
When the rain suddenly ceased, the students didn't know what Rhys had done, but they understood well enough that this was their chance. They quickened their pace, hurrying toward the castle—after all, the sky was still heavy with black clouds, and a downpour could begin again at any moment. If they didn't seize this window to return, were they just waiting to be drenched to the bone?
However, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall couldn't hurry back to the castle like the ordinary students. After arranging for the students to retreat, Dumbledore led Professor McGonagall toward the place where the deafening noise had just erupted.
Once they stepped out of the Quidditch pitch, both of them froze.
Looking at the Black Lake just a few dozen metres ahead, Dumbledore asked in a slightly uncertain tone, "Minerva, if I'm not completely senile yet, I seem to recall this was grassland before, wasn't it?"
Professor McGonagall was even more shocked than Dumbledore.
At that moment, she finally understood the source of that thunderous noise—part of the ground near the Black Lake had collapsed!
"An earthquake?" she suggested, seizing on the most likely explanation.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered, and he murmured under his breath, "If it were only an earthquake, that would be a blessing."
"What do you mean?" Professor McGonagall couldn't quite grasp the meaning of his words.
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore turned his head toward her. "Minerva, just now a group of Dementors broke into Hogwarts. They were drawn here by the joy within the Quidditch pitch, but now…"
His gaze shifted to the newly expanded surface of the Black Lake, and he fell into silence.
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