The black mist swirled and reformed.
Once, twice, thrice... Charlie had the silver dragon repeatedly tear the Dementor apart, but each time, the Dementor would reassemble.
Undying and indestructible.
Charlie stopped and fell into thought.
He instinctively felt that this thing couldn't be man-made.
How powerful would a Wizard have to be to create something like this?
But that guy named Ekrizdis had no fame whatsoever. Aside from being mentioned in the Dementor's records, there was no trace of him anywhere else.
This was illogical.
Charlie waved his wand, and the silver dragon transformed into a silver mist, completely enveloping the Dementor.
The Dementor struggled to escape, but the silver mist tightened, eventually trapping it firmly in place.
It let out a low moan, its body constantly twitching.
Charlie stepped forward and extended his hand.
Magic surged from his fingertips, injecting into the Dementor's body.
The next second, a terrifying wave of negative emotions washed over him.
Darkness, cold, despair, fear, anger, sadness... countless emotions mixed together, like a dull knife stirring back and forth in Charlie's mind.
Charlie's face instantly turned pale, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
He gritted his teeth and forcefully cut off the magic.
The Dementor also slumped, as if Charlie had exhausted it.
Charlie gasped for air, propping himself up with his hand on the table.
That momentary contact felt like being forcibly shoved into a sewer full of garbage, making him nauseous.
But at the same time, he had successfully touched the essence of Dementors.
They are naturally generated from human negative emotions.
Every Dementor is an aggregation of countless dark emotions. They are inherently embodiments of negativity, feeding on human happiness and spreading despair and fear.
As long as humanity's dark side exists, they will never disappear.
The reason they are undying and indestructible is not because they are powerful, but because they are not living creatures at all.
They are the materialization of emotions.
Charlie's mind stirred.
The silver mist, carrying this Dementor, flew into the silver square box.
He closed the lid and locked it.
Dementors are undying and tireless; you just need to catch some people to feed them. Even if you're a bit black-hearted, you don't even need to feed them; they can still live indefinitely. What kind of chosen employee physique is this?
Charlie stroked his chin, his thoughts gradually expanding.
Could Dementors be utilized as an infinite energy source? Harry had also been staying in the Hospital Wing today, and many people visited him, all wanting to cheer him up.
However, no matter what they did, they couldn't make Harry feel better.
He hadn't told anyone that he had heard his mother's dying words.
She tried to protect him from Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort's laughter before he killed her.
He even dreamed of this scene at night.
Even when Charlie came to visit him, Harry was still in a gloomy mood.
Charlie walked into the ward and glanced at Harry's expression.
"Still upset about the broom? We can just buy a new one next week when we go to Hogsmeade."
Harry looked up at Charlie.
For some reason, the moment he saw Charlie, his previously restless heart suddenly settled, and he felt a sense of security.
Harry thought, perhaps this was the sense of security Charlie brought.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally asked:
"Charlie, what should I do if I dream of my family being killed?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you ask?"
"After I fainted from seeing the Dementor, I always dream of that scene."
Charlie nodded and said decisively.
"Of course, you fight him directly."
Harry was stunned.
"Can someone bully you even in your own dream?"
"What Dementors, Lord Voldemort, or a 36D pale-skinned long-legged female ghost—in your dreams, you fight them all."
What Charlie said was outlandish, but Harry suddenly felt that there really wasn't anything to be conflicted about.
Wouldn't it be better if he just found Sirius and that damned Lord Voldemort and got his revenge?
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