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The thought flickered through his mind. That wand was his most precious possession… the only thing in his life that was truly his.
He'd waited years to get it.
And now it was gone.
Of course Ron couldn't accept that.
He looked back several times… half desperate, half terrified… as the urge to turn around and retrieve it gnawed at him.
However… The Dementor looked far too terrifying. Everywhere it passed, frost began to spread, freezing the very air. Faced with a choice between life and property, Ron ultimately made what could be considered a fairly smart decision.
A wand is precious… But life is priceless!
Ron broke into another desperate sprint for his life.
Neville was panting so hard he could barely get the words out: "I… I can't think of anything! If only Hermione were here… she's so smart, she'd definitely know what to do!"
His voice quivered with fear. He had just realized that Ron was running much faster than him… perhaps because of his own slightly more chubby frame. Ron had already pulled far ahead, leaving Neville with the horrible impression that Ron believed as long as he ran faster than Neville, he'd be fine.
"But she was taken by that bloody Snape! A conspiracy… it's definitely a conspiracy! That Dementor must be his! He kidnapped Hermione and now he's letting the Dementor loose to finish us off!" Ron wasn't really thinking strategically; his reckless brain simply screamed that if he didn't run faster, he'd die.
Well…
It was obvious by now… both boys had developed a serious dependency on Hermione. Calling them "Hermione and her two useless men" wouldn't be entirely unfair.
The trio had lost Hermione… and it was as if Ron and Neville had lost their external brain. (At least if Harry were here, he might've had a flash of inspiration or two.)
But with just Neville and Ron… Running was all they could do. Their minds were completely blank, pure and empty… much like during class, when information flew straight through their heads without ever stopping.
Of course...Neville actually did pay attention in class. The problem was, the poor boy had a terrible memory. Things he learned one hour often started slipping away the next… especially when he panicked.
And right now? In a state of sheer terror...every bit of knowledge he'd ever learned was completely gone.
That was early Neville for you...the unpolished, untransformed version of the future hero. His grandmother hadn't sent him that Remembrall for nothing.
"We're done for! Done for!" Ron yelled, still running, still glancing back. But how could two clumsy legs ever outrun something that floated through the air?
The Dementor was gaining on them fast. Ron's shout cracked with pure despair.
Honestly… the adrenaline surging through both Ron and Neville had already reached inhuman levels. But no matter how fast they ran, they couldn't hope to match the eerie, gliding speed of a Dementor.
Unless they had flying brooms… and not the old school ones, but brand-new high-speed models… outrunning it on foot was impossible.
Even wizards who could use magical movement… like Ian, Voldemort, or Riddle, who could turn into thick fog… weren't necessarily faster than a Dementor.
It was like comparing human legs to a speeding car. From the start, Ron and Neville never stood a chance.
They didn't know that, though.
So… They wasted all their energy in a hopeless effort, exhausting themselves to the point of collapse.
"We're doomed!"
Ron's scream echoed through the night with pure terror in his voice.
Neville was so terrified that he couldn't even speak. Tears welled up in his eyes, and only his two short, chubby legs kept moving frantically. He swore to himself… if he ever got another chance, he would definitely lose weight.
He understood now.
Neville had truly seen the light.
Why did people say that being fat was dangerous to one's health?
Wasn't this the perfect example that being fat could actually endanger your life?!
"Whoooosh~"
The eerie, floating sound of the Dementor echoed through the night.
As it drew closer, an icy chill enveloped Ron and Neville more and more tightly. The bone-piercing cold seeped into their very souls, making their movements sluggish and stiff… as if their limbs had been filled with lead.
Even their frantic thoughts seemed to slow down under the creature's influence.
Then, as it closed in on Neville, the Dementor suddenly accelerated.
"F-fire… fire…"
Neville, to his credit, still had the courage worthy of a Gryffindor. He dared to draw his wand against the thing that terrified him most. Unfortunately, his trembling voice could barely stammer out the first few syllables of the spell.
Of course… With the meager skill of a first-year wizard, even if Neville had managed to complete the spell, it wouldn't have made much difference. His weak little bit of magic couldn't possibly compare to that of an adult wizard.
Even adult wizards' fire spells struggled to harm a Dementor...so a young, underpowered wizard like Neville could only have made things worse. His flames would have merely angered the creature, not stopped it.
He couldn't even hope to make it pause for a few steps.
Choosing the wrong kind of magic meant there was absolutely no way a creature like a Dementor could be threatened...and perhaps it was actually fortunate Neville couldn't finish the spell. Otherwise, he might have earned himself a few good slaps from the Dementor.
Yes...This particular Dementor belonged to Ian.
Under Ian's "guidance," it had shed many of its bad habits. But it had also learned a few new ones from Ian… it just hadn't had much chance to practice them while locked up in the Room of Requirement.
On average, Ian smacked it around a few times a day, so by now it had become quite the expert at slapping others. If given the chance, it would surely want to test out what it had learned.
Neville really ought to thank his ancestors… for not letting him complete that spell.
Otherwise...he'd probably be showing up to class the next morning with a face swollen like a pig's head.
To be fair, the Dementor hadn't actually intended to hurt Neville or Ron. The overwhelming despair and dread they felt were merely the passive effects of its aura.
"Little… human…"
The Dementor actually spoke, its voice a ragged, hollow rasp.
"Go away… go away! Woooooo~"
But Neville's mind was buzzing too loudly with terror… he couldn't make out the words at all.
"Toy…"
The Dementor suddenly lunged, its skeletal fingers curling around Neville's ankle. A wave of icy cold shot through his entire body. His wand slipped from his hand and clattered onto the stone ground.
Instantly, every terrible memory he'd ever had came flooding back… being chased by giant spiders, handing in blank exam papers, being laughed at by his classmates… all the humiliations of his life flashing before his eyes.
"No! No!"
Neville's face was streaked with tears and snot.
It was a reaction born from fear and the agony of reliving his worst memories. In truth, the Dementor hadn't even begun to suck out his happiness yet… what he felt now was only the passive, overwhelming influence of its presence.
And even so… Neville already felt like he was about to break down completely.
Such was the true terror of a Dementor.
(End of Chapter)