A dry, decayed wind stirred out of the pitch-black hole and blew across Voldemort's face.
It didn't stink. There was a faint smell of decay, but mostly it smelled of dust.
Voldemort stared fixedly ahead. If this Dementor tried to kiss him, he wouldn't hesitate to hit it with Dark Magic.
Fortunately, the one before him was quite reasonable. In the dry wind, Voldemort could also sense its thoughts—go, be quiet.
That was more or less the gist of them: vague, muddled, yet real.
"What would happen if we used the Legilimency Spell?" Voldemort asked Headmaster Flitwick, who was speaking with another Dementor some distance away.
"No idea, but we can try." Flitwick shrugged, then immediately flicked his wand. "Legilimency."
Brave Flitwick really ought to have consulted Mad-Eye first, shouldn't he? Voldemort thought.
As the thought crossed his mind, Headmaster Flitwick suddenly shuddered. His wand began to tremble, and Voldemort had no idea what he was doing.
"Break... break the spell..." Flitwick managed to turn his head and stammer.
"Expelliarmus."
Voldemort acted without hesitation, then caught Flitwick's flying wand. Flitwick himself... had fallen to the ground and was convulsing.
"Cold... so cold. Don't... don't hurt me..." he murmured, looking out of his mind.
Voldemort didn't dare leave him there. He carried him away to the Hit Wizards' resting area beside the castle's entrance hall.
"What happened to him?" Moody asked as he stood up, on alert.
"He used the Legilimency Spell," Voldemort replied. "The headmaster was trying to—"
"Reckless decision!" Moody roared, cutting him off. He took out some chocolate and gave it to Flitwick, who was still trembling but had regained a little of his composure.
"Don't use mental magic on Dementors. It's like building a channel for them to drain your happiness—only a little better than the Dementor's