Three Dementors, three tall, black, hooded Dementors, were looking up at him. He didn’t stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped out his wand and roared, ‘Expecto patronum!’ Something silver white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the Dementors but didn’t pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead – he was nearly there. He stretched out the hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.
