The Dementor seemed to sense the group's stares. It leaned forward, a single hand emerging from its cloak—gray, skeletal, and scabbed, like something long dead and left to rot in water.
Several wands snapped up, aimed at the creature, but Harry and the others hesitated. They didn't know what they were dealing with, and they weren't about to attack blindly.
The Dementor didn't care about the wands pointed at it. Regular spells were useless against them—only a Patronus Charm or a handful of other spells could do any real damage. Its head turned slowly toward Harry, as if drawn to him with keen interest.
It started to glide closer.
Harry felt a pull, like a vortex forming beneath the Dementor's hood, sucking in everything around it. His head spun, dizziness creeping in.
Suddenly, a blinding white light erupted without warning, blasting the Dementor clean out of the train compartment.
"Mr. Dementor, I don't think this is your stop," Dudley said, stepping out of the compartment and looking down at the creature with calm authority. His voice was steady, almost casual.
"I'll count to three. If you're still here, you're not leaving."
The Dementor let out an angry hiss, but the white light had clearly done a number on it—it couldn't even stand.
"Three!" Dudley declared, skipping straight to the end.
Who said you had to start at one? Three worked just fine.
The Dementor, whatever intelligence it might have, seemed to freeze for a moment, as if stunned by the audacity. If it had a face, it'd probably look utterly baffled.
You're not playing fair!
"Alright, I'll take that as a challenge," Dudley said coolly.
Last time he'd visited Azkaban, he hadn't gotten the chance to bring back any "souvenirs." What a shame. But now, here was a Dementor delivering itself right to him—too good an opportunity to pass up.
Dudley reached for the red-and-white ball at his waist.
The Hogwarts Express wasn't dealing with just one Dementor. The chilling air still lingered in the carriage, a sign that more were nearby.
"Get out of here!" a shout rang out from another compartment.
A silver light flared, and a shimmering white wolf charged out, slamming into another Dementor and knocking it back. A fully formed Patronus Charm.
The silver wolf didn't stop there—it barreled toward the other compartments, hunting down more Dementors.
A scruffy-looking man stepped out of the compartment, catching sight of Dudley standing in the corridor. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Dudley rubbed the ring on his finger, resisting the urge to nab another Dementor for himself, and nodded back.
Soon, the icy chill in the air faded, the train's lights flickered back to life, and everything felt warm and bright again. The Hogwarts Express resumed its journey as if nothing had happened.
"Harry, you okay?" Dudley asked, stepping back into the compartment and closing the door behind him.
"I'm fine, just… a bit off," Harry said, his lips still a little pale.
"Have some Happy Water," Dudley said, pulling a bottle from his left pocket and handing it to Harry.
Harry chugged it down in one go.
"Burp!"
A loud, satisfying belch escaped him, and he instantly looked more relaxed.
"What was that stuff?" Ron asked, eyeing the empty bottle curiously. He'd been about to ask for a sip, but Harry had downed it too fast. The lingering scent in the air was intriguing, unfamiliar.
"Happy Water. Want some?" Dudley pulled another bottle from his pocket.
"Glug!"
The moment Ron took his first sip, he was hooked. "This is amazing! Way better than cherry syrup," he said with genuine awe.
Wizards, with their tendency to scoff at Muggle inventions like weapons, rarely bothered with Muggle drinks either. Bunch of stubborn old traditionalists.
Halfway through his bottle, Ron suddenly remembered his friends. "Neville, you want a sip?" he offered.
Neville glanced at the bottle, noticing some food crumbs on the rim, and waved it off. "Nah, I had plenty over the holidays."
Ron's eyes widened. "What?!"
How much good stuff did you guys have without me over the break?
"Dementors? That's what those things were?" Harry asked, his color returning as he recovered.
He'd only recently heard the term, while practicing that spell.
"I read about them," Hermione piped up, ever the encyclopedia. "They're terrifying dark creatures. They feed on happiness, leaving you with only your worst memories. They can even suck out your soul, turning you into an empty shell."
"I thought the Ministry kept them under control," she added. "They're supposed to be confined to Azkaban. You don't find wild Dementors out here."
The Ministry claimed they had the Dementors on a leash, but whether that was true? Only Minister Fudge would know.
"Too bad we haven't mastered the Patronus Charm yet," Hermione said with a hint of frustration. She flicked her wand, and faint silver wisps trailed from the tip, refusing to take shape.
"If only we could do what Dudley did," she added wistfully.
Here's a thought: maybe Dudley's Patronus Charm wasn't perfect either. Maybe it was just… overwhelmingly powerful?
Harry and Neville pulled out their wands, too, producing similar silvery wisps that fizzled out.
Ron, still sipping his Happy Water, frowned. "Wait a second… you've all been practicing the Patronus Charm?"
It hit him. He was the only one who hadn't.
Everyone nodded, confirming his fears.
Harry, with perfect timing, added, "Malfoy's been practicing it too."
Ron: …
Neville chimed in, "We've also been working on dueling techniques. I can even cast some pretty strong Transfiguration spells now."
Ron: …
Transfiguration had always been Ron's strength over Neville, who struggled with it. But now? It sounded like Neville had surpassed him.
"Oh, and Ron," Neville added, "Malfoy said he'd be happy to teach you some Defense Against the Dark Arts tips once term starts."
That last comment was like an arrow through Ron's heart. He felt himself turn gray, as if all the color had drained from his body.
It was just one holiday. How had he fallen so far behind?
No more vacations for me, Ron vowed silently. He wasn't about to be the weak link in their group.
Here's the thing: while most young wizards spent their holidays goofing off, Dudley and his crew had been working harder than they did during term. The problem?
They were relentless. Absolute workaholics.
At this rate, give them a couple more years, and they'd probably be wiping the floor with seasoned Death Eaters.