Harry was not the only one. Almost everyone stared up at the sky in terror, where a spectacle a hundred times more frightening than the Quidditch Match was unfolding.
A vast mass of gray-black fog writhed like a living thing as it rolled in from the Forbidden Forest. It swallowed the thin sunlight in its path, plunging the entire Quidditch Pitch into an eerie gloom.
Within the churning sea of fog, Dementors flew in flocks like black birds, heading toward the Forbidden Forest. A sickening inhalation came from beneath their cloaks. Even from dozens of feet overhead, their bone-deep chill seeped into everyone.
"Merlin's black shoes..." Seamus's voice trembled.
Neville and Hannah huddled together, shivering so hard their teeth chattered.
Hermione dropped her Quill and clutched the Glass Jar with its blue flame tightly to her chest.
"It's those things!" Ron's face went white. "Those damned Dementors..."
Even Hagrid got to his feet, pale-faced.
Will already had his Wand in hand, with Sylvia pressed close beside him, but his expression was decidedly strange.
The Black Dog at his side gave a low growl, his fur standing on end. But Sirius did not transform—revealing his identity in front of so many people would be suicide.
"Students, stay where you are!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang across the pitch. "Prefects, gather your houses and prepare to evacuate. Players, come down—"
Wood looked reluctant, but he immediately shouted from the air, "Gryffindor! Land! Now!"
But Harry did not move.
He hovered fifty feet above the ground, his Firebolt swaying slightly in the fierce wind. The cold was everywhere. That familiar chill that seeped into his soul closed in from all sides.
He could hear his mother screaming before she died. He could feel the hollow, ravenous pull of the Dementors...
Dumbledore raised his Wand.