The Prisoner Of Azkaban - Hermione Granger x OC

Guardian Angel

Oliver darted down the hill, adrenaline coursing through his veins, desperately hoping his brother would be alright. Isabella's panicked screams of "Henry!" pierced through the air, urging Oliver to run faster. Finally, he reached them, Hermione close behind.

His heart plummeted as he laid eyes on his brother's lifeless body sprawled on the ground. Isabella knelt beside him, her face etched with fear and anguish. Oliver's breath caught in his throat as he drew nearer, noticing the crimson trail of blood marking Henry's head.

"Oh no, oh no," Oliver whispered, his voice quivering with a mixture of shock and distress, as he knelt down beside his brother.

Hermione, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief, couldn't bring herself to voice her fears. She looked to Isabella, seeking answers amidst the chaos.

"He's alive," Isabella cried out, her voice choked with tears, "but he's very badly hurt."

"We have to get him back to the hospital wing," Hermione urged, her voice edged with desperation.

Without a moment's hesitation, Oliver declared, "I'll carry him," his voice determined and filled with unwavering resolve. As if fueled by sheer determination alone, he effortlessly lifted Henry's larger frame, powered by the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

But just as Oliver prepared to take a step towards the castle, an inexplicable sense of dread settled over the atmosphere. The nearby lake, once serene, froze over with an eerie rapidity that sent shivers down Oliver's spine. His breath hung in the frigid air, each exhale a visible reminder of the encroaching danger surrounding them.

Slowly, Oliver reluctantly looked up, his eyes widening in horror as he gazed at the sky above them. It wasn't one or two, but hundreds of dementors, ominously circling like vultures, casting an oppressive shadow over the already tense situation.

A dementor suddenly appeared out of nowhere, right in front of Oliver's face, causing him to crash down to the ground in sheer horror. The circling dementors above closed in, intensifying the imminent danger. Realizing the urgency of the situation, Oliver swiftly sprang back to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"

A small white light materialized, offering a brief shield against the encroaching dementors, granting them a few precious seconds of respite. However, the shield proved unable to withstand the relentless assault, as multiple dementors broke through, their tormenting presence overwhelming and suffocating. They charged towards Oliver, Hermione, and Isabella.

Oliver could hear the anguished screams echoing around him, the sound reverberating through his very soul as his vision blurred and his body weakened. The excruciating pain overcame him, as if his essence was being mercilessly torn from his being. Falling to his knees, he glanced back to see Hermione and Isabella laying unconscious on the ground, their fate uncertain.

Fear enveloped Oliver's heart as he contemplated the worst, his mind racing with regrets and self-blame. His voice wavered with resignation as he accepted his fate, reasoning that he couldn't bear to continue without his fearless brother, his caring sister, and the woman he loved above all else. He felt like a failure, incapable of protecting them when it mattered most. Unable to withstand the overwhelming pain any longer, Oliver collapsed onto his side, submitting himself to the grasp of the dementors, his world quickly fading into darkness.

Suddenly, a radiant light emerged from the other side of the lake. Initially appearing dull, it abruptly grew brighter and brighter as it traversed the frozen surface. The blinding brilliance of the light eradicated each and every dementor it encountered along its path, leaving Oliver in sheer amazement at the miraculous sight unfolding before him.

Gradually, the intense glow subsided, returning the surroundings to a hushed darkness. Oliver's eyes strained in the dimness, still adjusting from the overwhelming brightness. However, he could discern a figure standing on the other side of the lake, a beacon of hope piercing through the gloom.

With his vision blurred and fading, Oliver's last coherent image was of that mysterious figure, their silhouette outlined by the faint moonlight reflecting off the frozen lake. Just as his consciousness waned, he held onto the glimmer of that presence, tethering him to a flicker of hope. And then, everything faded into the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.