The indignance of this "thing" knowing who I really am and considering me less than or equal to Voldemort was insulting to a degree I'd never experienced before. I've never been the arrogant sort but how is the damned two bit copy cat hack able to get the Dementor's on his side.

I'd been insulted many times before throughout history. False stories filled with lies were told to children around the world many times over. Something about this situation though... Makes me angry!

I looked at Hermione passed out on the ground on the other side of the Cloaked fiend. My thoughts ran wild for solutions as my blood boiled further. Few spells in my arsenal can harm a Dementor but all that can would also hurt Hermione. I need it away from her! I thought.

"Flipendo!" I cast pushing the Dementor a few feet away from Hermione.

Not far enough! I told myself. This is where it would get harder. I'd never seriously followed the path of the sword. It was just a way for me to pass time throughout the millennia. Now I needed a skill I didn't have that Godric tried to teach me. I still remember the words he said when I'd told him," I have no talent in the sword Godric".

Godric told me,"That's not true my friend. What you lack is not talent, but the need to do so. Once your life or something you desperately care about rides on the use of your blade - it will cut truer than ever before."

Godric had trained his sword skills to a level few ever had. Some believed it myth, but he could cut a spell. A fully formed spell once cast could normally only be blocked by another spell. The only spell he could not do this to was the killing curse.

Godric had discovered that a swordsman's will could enter their blade and pull magical energy from the environment into the user through it. It was similar and yet opposite of how a wand works. This effect strengthened the blade momentarily and allowed it to affect other things of the non mundane nature. It required the swordman to be a wizard or witch too.

This effect was useless to most of the magical community. It required a lot of focus and slows the person's ability to recover energy in other natural ways while in use. The energy could not be redirected to activate a spell and metals terrible quality to handle magic makes it require an awful lot of power.

I'd long learned how to force my will into a blade but simultaneously drawing magical power had until now eluded me.

Aided by that fact, a stick is a better conduit for magical energies than a metal sword even if it's weaker... Like a match lit in a burst of motion the energy flowed in a congested pathway. The sticks edge was now empowered by my will and I focused into the stick choosing to load it as much as possible. What I needed now was not a stronger stick, but explosive power.

I compressed the most magical energy onto the sticks tip and it started to glow with a fierce red light: letting me know it was about to burst!

I thrust the stick in the most perfect fencing stab I'd ever performed. It struck true at the Dementor's chest.

"BOOM!"

The stick shattered into shards that thrusted into the Dementor after the impact. All that remained of the stick was where my hand had been holding it. My hand was okay except for a. Few splinters.Then the Dementor on the other hand was thrown back into another buildings brick wall. It was momentarily stunned but it was definitely away from the girl.

I let him have it! "Incendio Maxima!" A torrent of flame spun at the Dementor. A massive inferno that would incinerate stone collided with it and yet it still remained seemingly unfazed and barely singed.

Maxima is a long forgotten addon to a spell that increases its output to maximum. The only place it's used now is as a variation for the Lumos spell. Any spell with less than three words can have Maxima added to boost the output, but some spells are without a quantifiable limit and can drain the caster to death. Also, some wizards and witches died underestimating the boost In power of the spell and fell to their own attacking charm. So many professors made it their lives mission to have this trick forgotten. It was left on Lumos only because the light spell is essentially harmless.

The Dementor stood once again enraged from my last attack but I didn't let up," Sectuse Semptra Maxima!"

As much as I hate Snape, I must admit he created one heck of a powerful death spell. Since I know all death spells I knew it and who it's creator is. The spell not only cut better than "Diffindo" but also had an anti healing curse similar to a basilisks venom or a recluses bite.

The curse severed the Dementor and the building behind it cleanly in half. Still the creature did not die. It's two severed halves sticking together like a crack in a mirror. I fell to one knee drained of all my energy.

"Damn gitz resilient," I muttered.

I knew from the start I could not defeat the Dementor. My only hope was either is make it too troublesome for the beast so it would leave or that someone who could would arrive while I bought us time.

Unwilling to relent, I pointed my wand at a nearby building," Accio!" I cast my spell at a piece of rubble. The object bounced off the Dementor's head before making it's way to my hand. These first year and unrestricted spells Hogwarts teaches are actually quite useful, I thought.

The object turned out to be a piece of drain pipe. Exhausted, I prepared to charge the fiend but then it happened, "Expecto Patronum," casted an unseen figure.

The Dementor was instantly banished by a white bat that radiated tranquility. I looked behind me and instinctively locked eyes with our savior... For it to be none other than Trocar Sanguini! Oh, Sod it all to hell!

For a few moments he and I stared at each other having realized something about the other. He now knew I was Death incarnated as a mortal, and I knew he was more than just a undead mage. Only a pure soul can cast a Patronus like his. Even if a Vampire could cast that level of magic, normally it would be impossible for them to create something that expels darkness because of their nature. There's more to this man than meets the eye, I noted mentally.

"Benjamin Diggory! Dumbledore would like to speak with you in his office and so would I," The dark arts teacher said.

I then noticed Hagrid, the grounds keeper was with him too and was currently lifting Hermione off the ground. The gentle giant lifted her quietly. The ruby was still tightly in her grip as she slumbered. A thin wheezing of breath could be heard, letting others know she was still alive.

"It's about damned time," I responded straightening my robes. After all, it's important to keep up appearances.