Since Dementors can drain away all of a person's happiness, leaving them like a living zombie, in the past wizards believed this was the loss of the soul.
However.
With the progress of the wizarding era.
Subsequently, people learned that Dementors do not suck out the soul; instead, they drain all happy memories around them, plunging people into despair and even rendering them incapable of action.
"We can't just sit here and wait for death! We have to escape!" Ron swallowed, his voice sharp as a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He flipped over and dashed madly toward the castle gate.
"Run, Neville!"
He roared, his throat stinging from running. The dead branches and leaves underfoot crunched noisily, waking Neville from his frightened trance, who was thinking, "We're doomed, we're doomed."
"Wait for me!"
Neville followed closely behind.
His heart was almost jumping out of his throat.
Their footsteps echoed in the empty courtyard, yet could not drown out the clanking of chains behind them. Looking back, a Dementor was chasing with arms full of festering wounds extended.
The black mist under its hood surged like boiling tar.
"Think, think of something fast!" Ron fumbled for his magic wand while running, only to find his pocket torn, and his old wand had fallen somewhere at the starting point.
Should he turn back to retrieve it?
Ron had considered this, since the magic wand was the most precious possession he had ever owned, one of the few things that truly belonged to him.
He had waited so many years for this wand.
And just like that, he lost it.
Ron was, of course, unwilling to accept this.
He looked back several times.
Wishing to turn back.
However.
The Dementor looked utterly terrifying, frosting everything it passed over, making Ron make the more intelligent choice between life and property.
The wand is precious.
But life is even more so!
Ron once again broke into a desperate sprint.
Neville was also running out of breath: "I-I, I can't think of anything, if only Hermione were here, she would definitely figure out a way to handle this."
His tone carried fear, as he realized he couldn't outrun Ron, perhaps due to being too chubby, leaving Ron far ahead, giving him the feeling Ron just needed to be faster than him.
"But she was taken by that damn Snape! A conspiracy! This must be Snape's conspiracy! The Dementor has to be his! After abducting Hermione, he released the Dementor to cleanse us!" Ron didn't really have such a cunning thought; his reckless brain just told him he would die if he didn't run fast.
How to say.
Obviously.
The two had developed a dependency on Hermione, so calling them Hermione and her two useless men might not be complete mockery.
The trio lost Hermione.
It was like Neville and Ron losing their external brain—actually, if Harry were still in this group, Harry sometimes would have a sudden clever idea.
However.
With one Neville, one Ron... the two did nothing but run, their minds blank, just like when knowledge swept through their minds during class.
Of course.
In truth, Neville paid attention in class, but this little chubby boy didn't have a good memory; many things he'd learned faded soon after class.
Especially when flustered.
Almost all the knowledge would be temporarily forgotten.
This was early Neville.
Yet to grow and transform.
His grandmother mailing him Memory Balls wasn't without reason.
"We're doomed, we're doomed, we're doomed..." Ron yelled desperately while running, looking back because how could two-legged creatures compete with something airborne, seeing the Dementor drawing nearer.
Honestly.
The adrenaline levels in Neville and Ron were absolutely being overworked, yet no matter how fast they ran, they couldn't match the unique flying speed of the Dementor.
Unless there were flying brooms here, and they had to be the latest models, not the school's leftovers, otherwise, thinking they could outrun a Dementor on foot was implausible.
Note.
Even using some magical methods, like Ian, Voldemort, or Riddle's transformation into a mist, the Dementor's speed would not lag much behind them.
This was like a competition between legs and a car. Right from the start, Ron and Neville were never meant to escape, but the two little wizards clearly had no experience in dealing with such situations.
They did not know.
Therefore.
A futile operation ensued.
Exhausting themselves almost to death.
"We're doomed!"
The voice was filled with terror.
Neville was too frightened to speak, tears welled in his eyes, as his two chubby little legs kept moving—he vowed, if given another chance, he would lose weight fiercely.
Enlightened.
Neville was truly enlightened.
Why they say obesity endangers life.
Wasn't this situation the best proof of obesity endangering life!
"Whoosh~ Whoosh~"
The sound of the Dementor's movement in the night was remarkably noticeable.
As it approached.
A piercing coldness increasingly enveloped Neville and Ron, making their movements slow and stiff as if their limbs were filled with lead, feeling heavy.
The speed of their thoughts seemed affected too.
Seeing it nearing Neville, the Dementor suddenly sped up.
"Fire... fire..."
Neville eventually found Gryffindor's courage, daring to draw his magic wand against what he feared, though his stammering voice couldn't complete the spell.
Of course.
Given a first-year little wizard's level.
Even if Neville could utter the complete Fire-Making Spell, it probably wouldn't matter. After all, his meager magical skills couldn't compare to an adult wizard.
Adult wizards find it hard to deal substantial damage to Dementors with the Fire-Making Spell, let alone underage wizards with weak magic powers; their Fire-Making Spell would just anger the Dementor.
Not even stopping the Dementor for a few steps.
If you choose the wrong magic.
There is no way to threaten such creatures as Dementors—fortunately, Neville couldn't cast his magic, or he'd likely get slapped twice by the Dementor.
Yes.
This was a Dementor raised by Ian.
It had lost its "poor habits" under Ian's "guidance," but it also learned some bad habits from Ian, just without the opportunity to show them in the Room of Requirement.
On average, Ian slapped it several times daily, so it had mastered how to slap others; if it caught the chance, it would definitely practice its learned skills well.
Neville should thank his ancestors.
For not letting him perform complete magic.
Otherwise.
Neville would surely have to attend classes with a pig head the next day—honestly, the Dementor didn't intend to harm Neville and Ron; the emotions they felt were merely the passive effects the Dementor caused.
"Little! People!"
The Dementor spoke.
"Go away, go away! Wuwuwu~"
But Neville's head was buzzing, clearly unable to hear clearly.
"Play... toy."
The Dementor suddenly attacked, its withered fingers directly wrapping around Neville's lagging ankle. Neville felt a chill spread through his body, his wand falling to the ground. It seemed all his worst memories surged forth, flashing images of being chased by giant spiders and handing in blank test sheets.
And being ridiculed by classmates... these were Neville's bad memories.
"No! No!"
Neville's face was full of tears.
The reaction was born of fear and the pain of unpleasant memories—actually, the Dementor had not drained his happiness; his experiences were only passive influences it caused.
And even so.
Neville still felt he was about to have a mental breakdown.
Clearly showing how terrifying Dementors indeed are.