After HP shared the dream, Lao Fu was conquered by me

At the same moment there was a terrible, shrill cry, and Dudley's footsteps stopped.

Lamia noticed Harry pause, then turned with a chill, and Lamia felt a chill run down her back, which could only mean one thing - there was more than one of them.

"Dudley, shut up! Whatever you do, just shut up! Wand!" Harry cried frantically, his hands groping along the floor like a spider. "Where's my—my wand—quickly—Lumos!"

He cast the spell instinctively, desperate for some light to help him find his wand—and suddenly, a flash of light appeared a few inches from his right hand. Harry couldn't believe it, but he breathed a sigh of relief—the wand was finally lit.

Harry snatched up his wand, struggled to his feet, and turned hastily.

Lamia covered her ears the next second, and sure enough, Harry screamed, his insides churning.

A large, hooded figure was silently gliding towards him. It hovered high above the ground, its feet and face invisible under its robes, and it seemed to devour the darkness bit by bit as it moved.

Harry stumbled back a few steps, but he finally remembered his wand and raised it. "Expecto Patronus!" A puff of silver smoke emerged from the tip of the wand, and the Dementors' movements slowed, but the spell did not fully take effect.

The Dementor was still coming at him, and Harry stumbled and took two steps back, his mind clouded with panic—concentrating—as a pair of slimy, scabby, gray hands reached out from under the Dementor's robes to grab him.

A rustling sound filled Harry's ears. "Expecto Patronus!" His voice seemed vague and distant, and another puff of silver smoke, even thinner and weaker than before, spurted out from the tip of the wand - he was powerless, he could not recite the spell.

Laughter rang in his mind, a sharp, piercing laugh. He could already feel the Dementor's foul, deathly cold breath filling his lungs, suffocating him - thinking about happy things, but there was no joy in his heart anymore, the Dementor's cold fingers were about to strangle his throat - the sharp, piercing laugh grew louder and louder.

A voice in his head said, "Surrender to death, Harry, and there will not even be any pain."

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He would never see Ron and Hermione again - he gasped desperately, and their faces suddenly appeared clearly in his mind.

"Harry, wake up!" Lamia's voice dragged Harry out of the darkness. Harry opened his eyes instantly, and then he heard his own voice awakening from the depths of his soul.

"Call the gods to protect you!"

A huge silver stag erupted from the head of Harry's wand, its antlers piercing the spot where the Dementor's heart should be.

The Dementor was knocked back, weightless as the darkness around it, and the stag rushed forward, and the Dementor dodged like a bat and fled.

"This way!" Harry called to the stag.

Harry glanced in Lamia's direction, making sure she was alright, then turned and ran down the alley, his lit wand held high. "Dudley? Dudley?"

He ran a dozen steps and reached them. Dudley was curled up on the ground, his arms tightly protecting his face. The second Dementor was squatting beside him, grabbing Dudley's wrists with his sticky hands and slowly prying his arms apart almost gently. The hooded head lowered towards Dudley's face, as if to kiss him.

"Catch it!" Harry shouted, and with a rapid whirring sound the silver stag he had conjured ran past him.

The Dementor's eyeless face was within an inch of Dudley's when, in a split second, the silver antlers pierced it, lifted it up and flung it into the air.

Like its companion, it took off into the air, swallowed by the darkness. The stag jogged to the end of the alley and disappeared in a puff of silver smoke.

The surrounding temperature returned to normal, and a warm breeze blew through the alley. The rustling of leaves in the neighbor's garden and the sound of cars in the mundane world of Magnolia Crescent Street filled the alley again.

Harry stood very still, all his senses racing to adjust to the sudden change, and it took him a moment to realize that his T-shirt was sticking to him and that he was drenched in sweat.

He couldn't believe what had just happened, the Dementors here, in Little Whinging.

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, sobbing and shaking.

Harry bent down to see if Dudley could possibly be on his feet when he heard heavy running feet behind him. Instinctively he raised his wand again and whirled around to face the newcomer.

But the visitor was too shocking. It was Mrs. Figg, their old neighbor with a weird temper, who appeared in front of them panting.

Her gray and white hair was hanging out of her hairnet, a net bag jingled on her wrist, and her feet were about to slip out of her thick plaid slippers.

Harry was about to hide his wand when—"Don't hide it, silly boy!" she screamed. "What if there are any of their people around? Oh, I'll have to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

Lamia realized that something was wrong and she jumped down from the wall and stood behind Harry.

Harry felt much more at ease after seeing Lamia.

"He's gone!" said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands. "To see a man about a batch of cauldrons that fell from their broomsticks—"

"—I told him I'd skin him alive if he went, and look at this! Dementors! I was so lucky I asked Tit-Tit to tip me off! Oh, we don't have time to stand around here! Harry, we've got to get you back! Oh, what trouble this is going to cause! I'm going to kill him!"

"But—" Harry was suddenly surprised to learn that this old neighbor with a strange temper and a love for cats actually knew about Dementors. He was as surprised as he had been when he had just encountered two Dementors in the alley. "You—you are a wizard?"

"I'm a Squib, and Mundungus knows everything, so how could I possibly help you fight off the Dementors? He ran off on his own, leaving you completely exposed, and I warned him—"

"This Mundungus has been following me? Wait a minute—it's him! He Apparated in front of my door!"

Harry looked at Lamia as if waking from a dream and said, "I said that voice was wrong. Sure enough, Lamia, someone is following me."

“Yes, yes, yes, thank goodness I had Tit-Tit hidden under a car just in case, and Tit-Tit came and told me, but by the time I got to your house you were gone – and now – oh, what would Dumbledore say? You!” she shrieked at Dudley, who was still lying in the alley. “Get your fat arse off the ground, quick!”

"You know Dumbledore?" Harry asked, staring at her in surprise.

"Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't? But hurry up - if they come back, I can't help them. I don't have much skills, I can't even transfigure a tea bag."

She bent down, grabbed one of Dudley's thick arms with her wrinkled hands and pulled hard.

"Stand up, you big useless fool, stand up!"

But Dudley, either unable to move or unwilling to move at all, just lay on the ground, trembling all over, his face ashen, his mouth tightly shut.

"Let me do it." Harry grabbed Dudley's arm and pulled hard. With great effort, he finally dragged Dudley to his feet.

Dudley looked like he would faint at any moment. His little eyes rolled in his sockets and beads of sweat appeared on his face. As soon as Harry let go of his hand, he began to stagger as if he was about to fall.

"Go!" said Mrs. Figg anxiously.