The alleyway was a canyon of shadows, the cobblestones slick with treacherous black ice. The unnatural, bone-chilling cold was so dense it felt like wading through freezing water.
Orion Malfoy ran. He was no reckless Gryffindor, driven by an impulsive, suicidal desire to play the hero. He had absolutely zero sacrificial tendencies.
Yet, in this specific case, he was supremely confident in his tactical superiority.
He knew exactly what danger he was facing. He had mastered the Patronus shield, a defense proven effective against this exact threat. His Universal Sense was buzzing gently, mapping the immediate area, guaranteeing that no rogue Dementor was going to successfully sneak up on his blind spot.
And most importantly, he had his ultimate ace in the hole: Time.
If the situation devolved into an unmanageable crisis, Orion knew he would not hesitate to activate the temporal halt. The resulting explanations and the potential exposure of a god-tier magical ability be damned; survival always took precedence over secrecy.
He sprinted past a row of boarded-up shop windows. Two older boys ran past him in the opposite direction, their faces twisted in blind, suffocating terror. They didn't even register Orion's presence.
He reached an intersecting alleyway. It was narrow, flanked by high stone walls that trapped the despairing cold.
Orion skidded to a halt, taking in the scene instantly.
Hermione Granger was sitting hard on the frozen cobblestones near the entrance of the alley. Her wand was raised, pointed uselessly into the gloom, but her hand was shaking so violently she couldn't aim. Her face was ashen, her brown eyes wide and locked in a state of paralyzing, traumatic shock.
But the Dementor looming in the alley was not looking at her.
It was entirely focused on a different student—a Ravenclaw girl, looking slightly older than them. The cloaked monstrosity had the girl pinned against the stone wall. Its rotting, scabbed hands were wrapped tightly around her throat, holding her slightly off the ground.
The Dementor's hood was pulled back, revealing a gaping, featureless void. It was leaning in, lowering its terrible face toward the terrified, sobbing girl's mouth.
It was administering the Kiss.
"Oh, absolutely not," Orion snarled, the cold logic evaporating into sheer, adrenaline-fueled action.
He lunged forward, his Hawthorn wand snapping up in a blindingly fast arc. He bypassed his panic, diving into his mental vault and pulling up the most recent, visceral memory of triumph he possessed—the sheer, unadulterated hilarity and victory of executing the Great Hall water balloon prank right under Dumbledore's nose.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The silver light didn't just erupt; it detonated from the tip of his wand. A massive, solid shield of blazing white energy materialized in the gloom.
Orion didn't stop running. He charged forward, driving the physical wall of silver light ahead of him like a magical riot shield.
He slammed the Patronus shield directly into the Dementor's flank.
The impact broke the creature's grip. The Dementor let out a horrible, rattling hiss, knocked sideways by the intense, radiant heat of the joy.
The Ravenclaw girl dropped like a stone, hitting the cobblestones with a heavy thud. She didn't move, appearing completely unconscious, her face slack and pale.
Orion didn't have time to check her pulse or drag her away. He planted his boots, holding his wand steady, maintaining the blazing shield between himself and the recovering Dementor.
"Granger!" Orion roared over his shoulder, his voice echoing sharply in the narrow alley. "Grab the girl and run! Get her out of here! I can manage to escape once you are clear!"
Hermione didn't move. She remained frozen on the ground, staring blankly at the silver shield, trapped entirely within the paralyzing echoes of her own worst failures. The Dementor's aura had incapacitated her mind.
"Dammit, Granger, move!" Orion shouted again, frustration bleeding into his voice.
The situation rapidly deteriorated.
From the deeper shadows behind the first Dementor, a second, equally massive cloaked figure glided forward. It joined the first, pressing its rotting hands against the silver barrier.
The temperature plummeted further. The sheer, crushing weight of two Dementors actively feeding on the area strained the magic. Orion gritted his teeth, pouring more energy into his core. He wasn't weak—his magical reservoir was vast—but the concentrated despair was an incredibly heavy, draining force to push against.
He glanced back at Hermione. Still unresponsive.
Orion's eyes narrowed. Fine, he thought, calculating the cooldown ratio rapidly. Two minutes is more than enough time to physically carry both of these girls out of this alleyway and dump them on the main street before the beasts realize what happened. Time to activate—
A sudden, blinding flash of light exploded behind him, illuminating the entire alleyway as if a miniature sun had just been born.
Orion felt a rush of kinetic wind. A massive, fully corporeal Patronus—a brilliant, glowing silver tabby cat—bounded past him with incredible speed.
It didn't just push the Dementors; it attacked them. The silver cat slammed violently into the two cloaked figures, its glowing claws swiping. The impact sent the Dementors careening backward, their rattling breaths turning into hisses of pain as they retreated rapidly into the deeper shadows of the alley, seeking to escape the intense, burning light.
Orion lowered his wand, dropping his own shield, and spun around.
Standing at the mouth of the alley, her wand raised high, her tartan cloak snapping in the icy wind, was Professor Minerva McGonagall. Her face was set in a mask of absolute, terrifying Scottish fury.
Running up the street directly behind her, looking frantic and breathless, was a heavily armed vanguard consisting of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, and Daphne Greengrass.