Welcome to the deep end.

Through a Half Breed's Eyes

Well!

That definitely accomplished many things.

First, and probably most important: yes, the teacher is indeed a werewolf.

I mean, he pretty much flat-out told me.

Not like I'm going to do anything about it though.

I also managed to squeak out an Alibi for my spell, mess with his mind severely, and figure out how to stop this stupid goddamn rash I keep picking up in potions.

A productive day, to say the least.

So much better than actually showing up for History.

I think I'm going to make one more loop around the castle

Watching out for bus-snakes, of course

And then maybe have a rest.

Ginny's been going on about how there's an upcoming Quidditch match she wants me to see.

Something about how her crush has been dominating the leaderboards as a star player.

Now, normally I wouldn't be bothered to do so, but with this year being what it is, I'll humor her this time.

It's Tuesday now, and the match is on Thursday.

As for spell creation, what with the steam spell being done, I really don't have any idea what to work on next.

And well

Designing spells without a clear goal in mind leads to all sorts of messy disasters.

Fun spells, though.

The demons are acting weird, too. There were a couple dozen that were gathering on the outer edges of the grounds, but they quickly broke up in a couple of minutes. I think they were hunting some sort of animal, or something, and I don't quite feel like going out into their territory to check.

Something weird happened today.

I was in my room, and decided to try and scan the walls. See if I could identify spells being cast through them.

Anyway, turns out the girl's dorms are literally back-to-back with the boys dorms.

Aside from detecting a contraceptive charm (which I really didn't need to know about), a couple of minor glamors, and quite possible the worst attempt at transfiguration I've ever seen, I also picked up a signature.

It wasn't exactly the same as McGonagall, but extremely similar: way too developed to be a student. But even then, it wasn't the same

It was closer to that dog I bumped into the forest. Not identical but

Oh.

Well. Next time I bump into that dog, incapacitate first, ask questions later.

Uhm

God. I'm an idiot. Of course it wasn't a normal dog!

I should've just hit the damn thing, then dragged it back into the castle to either dissect or interrogate.

Wlel

Gnn s i

do ukin mn i

Thank you.

Ginny is currently sitting on my bed with me, still losing her goddamn mind.

I have to say, if what happened is a standard thing for Quidditch, then I might need to pay more attention to the sport.

Anyway.

Demons.

That really sums it up.

So, here's what I saw, down there.

Standard sport setup: everyone gets on a stand, and begins cheering for one team, badmouthing the other.

Except it was Gryffindor vs Survivors, so there wasn't really much badmouthing going on.

Game started strong: Potter, who was apparently a star player for the team, did his part by being absolutely useless, floating up in the air for about a minute and a half half like a confused imp, occasionally looking around as if searching for his marbles.

The other team had a player doing the same thing.

Anyway, and then the game began.

The remaining 6 players on each team exploded into action, with three-a-side gathering smaller, enchanted balls, each similar to the ones Ginny and I had thrown between each other a couple of days ago.

A few of the balls were then tossed into metal hoops each occasionally blocked by a fourth player, which was then punctuated by frantic screaming of a die-hard fanatic.

As sad as I am to say it, but he's probably less biased than the average mortal sports announcer.

Finally, the last two players per team carried around moderately-sized clubs, and were responsible for launching glorified hand-boulders at the other players. Boulders made of metal.

I have to admit, the whole whack-metal-balls-into-people thing seems fun: I might even get into it, if the team opens up a spot in the future.

So six players continued to fly around, playing aerial tag and stealing balls from one another, while Potter and his opponent continued to patrol around aimlessly. Meanwhile the other four guys did their best to murder one another.

And then came the fog.

Although I'd like to lie and say I know where the fog came from, I'd be lying.

Goddamn fog came from everywhere.

Grey, thick, choking fog just rolled in from every side at once, cutting visibility to nothing. I reflexively swapped to mage sight, and did my best to try and keep track of Potter.

It was pretty difficult, truth be told. It works a lot better when the targets being tracked are confined to only two dimensions of movement.

And then came the demons.

It wasn't really a proper horde: only about twelve or so.

Yes, twelve.

Twelve demons roll up to the stands, like they've been invited to some horrifying party.

Now, here's the thing about these lesser fear demons: there's a reason they're known as 'lesser'.

Now, the big difference between lesser, and greater demons?

The lesser demons can't fly.

This is entirely divorced by how powerful their auras are.

So, we've got a dozen of the bastards sitting in the center of the stadium, staring skywards at Potter, because of course they are.

I'm one of the few people able to see through the damn fog, meanwhile Potter, who's flying just barely out of their spheres of influence, is starting to slow down, as if he's searching for something.

His opponent remained high, however.

Ginny's swearing up a storm the entire time, fretting about Potter's safety.

And then he dipped into the sphere.

I could see him flinch as he brushed the border, but the angle he had his broom at prevented him from steering clear.

He flew, directly into the overlapping influence of the demons.

He lasted for about seven seconds, before I could see him lose his grip,

And then begin falling twenty feet towards the ground.

I was up in an instant.

Ginny would have killed me if I let him die.

But I didn't need to do anything.

One of the teachers summoned a silver familiar, which chased the demons away, before casting a quick spell to prevent Potter's messy meeting with the ground.

And then the fog cleared, revealing an empty pitch, several dancing silver shapes,

And an unconscious Potter.

He was immediately lifted up and run to the hospital wing, but that wasn't the end of the troubles.

Because there was still one more dementor nearby.

As Ginny catapulted herself up into a standing position, determined to figure out what was wrong with Potter, I followed her.

We sprinted back to the castle

Only to bump into the last dementor.

She's crying now.

She's crying, and I have no idea what to do.

I don't know

I don't

I've ne

I can't say everything will be fine.

I can't say it won't happen again.

I can't even say I will protect her.

Because what I did, I doubt I'll be lucky enough to be able to do again.

The demon came up from behind. We were both unaware until it was too close. Too distracted. And this time, it closed to melee.

Ginny was screaming, but I convinced her to run ahead, get to safety. Get help, any help. Said I could slow it. Could stop it, could kill it.

And as soon as she left sight, I turned on it.

The spell knocked it back, but did not stop it.

It was hungry, feral. Uncontrolled. It screamed of hunger, of souls and of flesh.

Of feasting on the innocent, of murder, decay, death.

I should have fled, should have run and hid, I should have taken flight and outflown it

But there are no wards here.

And I couldn't

And so I just kept casting at it.

Over and over.

Seven hits.

Twenty-five casts. I was panicking. Losing hope. Considered revealing.

I wasn't killing it. Hurting it: I was driving it back, and even then barely

It took seven hits, and over two minutes of casting.

And even then, it got too close. It was too fast. It clawed me twice. Shallow, jagged wounds on my arms. Slowed me down. Ruined my aim. Speckled the ground black with my blood.

McGonagall, followed by Ginny barrelled out of the school, cast the silver familiar at it. At us.

And as the familiar came close

It burned.

Unlike anything I've felt before

I need a faster method.

I need a spell capable of dealing with those demons faster. One that isn't immediately seen as dark, something I can use on my own.

I don't have my Mothers here. I can't kill these things on my own, not without dropping my glamour

Because those three minutes

I was a sitting duck. I couldn't run. But I couldn't let it win.

As the thing finally fled, I pulled myself to the side, hid my wounds as my nature knitted them back together. McGonagall tried to look me over. I couldn't let her. Couldn't show her.

I ran. Ran into the grounds, still bleeding, still dripping.

Five minutes later, the wounds had finally healed, flesh regained color.

Grey flesh became light once again.

I back stumbled into our dorm ten minutes later, to meet a pale-faced Ginny, once again balled up

She assumed I had died. That I had panicked and fled and been caught by another one

That there are dozens of them, lying in wait

She's terrified of them

That they'll find her

And I'm sca

I don't know how to make this right.

But I know for a fact

The idiot responsible for this

Isn't merely incompetent

If this doesn't change

They will be murderers

A.N: No, I'm not planning on having the entire story be doom and gloom.

The problem was that Dementors are involved. Dementors are not funny.

Honestly though, I have the urge to re-tag the story as either Humor/Horror or Drama/Humor.