The wind at the edge of the Forbidden Forest hadn't completely subsided.
Although the silvery-white storm that had surged up from the forest clearing had stopped expanding, its lingering effects still reverberated in the air.
It swirls the fine shavings and withered leaves into several low whirlwinds, which swirl back and forth close to the ground.
The broken shrub branches were slowly springing back, making a series of soft, cracking sounds, like bones returning to their place.
A few minutes ago, at the side entrance of the castle, the green flames in the fireplace lit up one after another, and then went out one after another.
Dumbledore was the first to emerge from the flames, his silver beard curling slightly from the heat of the fireplace. He didn't have time to brush the soot off the hem of his robe before he strode down the corridor.
Following closely behind was Fudge, the Minister for Magic, whose top hat was askew on his head and whose crimson robe was stained with dust.
He stumbled half a step when he landed, and only managed to steady himself by grabbing the door frame.
Then came Snape, dressed in black robes, his face even more somber than usual, his dark eyes scanning the end of the corridor the moment he stepped out of the fireplace.
Professor Flitwick tumbled out of the green flames, his slightly worn pointed hat askew again, this time tilted above his left ear.
He jogged along, reaching for his hat as he quickly counted, "Where's Professor McGonagall? What about the students? Have they been counted? Is everything alright?"
The last thing to emerge from the fireplace was a dark figure in a Dragon Hide coat.
Scrimgeour strode out of the flames, a small patch of his thick, brown hair turning white from the ashes. Seven or eight Auror followed him out.
Each of them gripped a wand, buttoned their coats, and the sound of their boots pounding heavily on the stone pavement was dense and deep.
Professor McGonagall was already waiting at the other end of the corridor.
Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her expression was somewhere between anxiety and an almost ashen composure.
Behind her, Professor Sprout was holding a plant that was half wilted; the edges of its leaves were scorched, as if they had been burned by some heat.
" Albus," McGonagall approached, speaking much faster than usual, "At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, all the Dementor have gathered there. There are too many to count accurately, but it looks like there are at least a hundred."
" Harry, Ron, Hermione disappeared from the common room. They're the only three missing from the Gryffindor Tower; nobody saw which way they went."
"Where's the dormitory?" Snape asked.
"We've looked," McGonagall shook her head. "He's not in the dorms, nor in the library, the Astronomy Tower, or the kitchen. A few students said they saw Harry go to the common room after dinner, and no one has noticed them since."
Dumbledore did not speak immediately.
His blue eyes lingered for a moment at the window at the end of the corridor, where an unusual silver light faintly shone from the edge of the Forbidden Forest beneath the sky.
"Let's go." He said only one word, and his steps turned toward the side door of the castle leading to the grounds.
The group walked quickly down the corridor, Scrimgeour glanced back and gave two brief hand gestures to the Auror behind him as he went.
The Auror immediately spread out into two lines, their footsteps light, and they drew their wands from their sleeves and held them at their sides.
Fudge was surrounded by the crowd, his top hat swaying on his head. He raised his hand to adjust it several times, and finally simply took the hat off and held it in his hand.
Unbeknownst to anyone, the beetle was no longer in its original spot; it was now perched inside the collar of his coat, its thin legs gripping the fabric, its wings tightly folded.
McGonagall pushed the side door open.
As the cold wind rushed in from outside, everyone stopped in their tracks at the same instant.
Beneath the sky in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, a silvery-white storm stood there, stretching from heaven to earth.
That thing was too big.
The pillar of the storm enveloped the canopy of an entire grove of old oak trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The swirling air currents, carrying rings of silver light, rose upwards, spreading out across a vast area as they approached the clouds, almost obscuring the outline of half the sky.
Silvery-white specks of light were flung far away, some even flying into the air above the field, like a swarm of startled fireflies flitting about in the night wind.
The canopy was bent to both sides under the weight, and broken branches were swept upwards by the wind, tumbling in the silvery light.
The entire Forbidden Forest was illuminated as brightly as day by that beam of light.
No one spoke on the field.
Professor McGonagall's hand was still on the door, her fingers not loosening.
She looked at the storm, her lips slightly parted, and for the first time, a brief blankness appeared in her eyes, which were usually stern to the point of being harsh.
Professor Sprout hugged the potted plant in her arms even tighter, her mouth opening and closing twice before she managed to utter, "By Merlin..."
Professor Flitwick tilted his head back, his pointed hat slipping completely off his ears; he even forgot to adjust it. His lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single syllable.
Snape stood still, his dark eyes fixed on the center of the storm.
The gloom on his face had mostly faded, replaced by an extremely rare solemnity, and his fingers slowly began to tighten on the handle of his wand.
Two of the Auror behind Scrimgeour instinctively took a half step back, while another, younger Auror had already raised his wand, but Scrimgeour pressed it down with a raised hand.
"Don't move." Scrimgeour's voice was extremely low, and he himself was staring at the storm, his thick, brown eyebrows furrowed tightly.
Fudge tilted his head back, unconsciously clenching the top hat in his hand into a not-quite-round shape.
His mouth was half-open, and it took him several seconds to remember to close it.
Suddenly, the beetle's wings parted slightly inside the collar of his shirt, and its tiny legs twitched rapidly across the fabric before crawling up his shoulder from the inside of the collar.
It moved quickly, but everyone's eyes were fixed on the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and no one looked down to see it.
Dumbledore's gaze fell on the base of the storm.
He could see that the thing's roots were planted in the very center of the forest clearing, and the light was emanating from that point and spiraling upwards.
He was intimately familiar with the structure of the wind, but what was that layer of silvery-white light wrapped within it?
The substance resembled the condensed spiritual light of Patronus Charm, yet Patronus Charm were never used in this way.
He stared at it for a long time, the expression in his blue eyes changing several times, first surprise, then a thoughtful deduction.
Scrimgeour then turned his head, glanced at Dumbledore, then at Fudge, and spoke in a low voice:
"Should we keep going, or retreat to the castle and prepare before going in? That storm doesn't look easy to handle. If it was caused by Black..."
"Not Black," Dumbledore said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly in the quiet space where only the wind could be heard.