"Wh-what... is that?"
The first emotion that swept over the little wizards' hearts was—confusion.
However, more people began to react, as the Aurors stationed around the audience suddenly stood up, almost all eyes focused on the direction of the maze beside the Forbidden Forest, because on the big screen, the figures of Harry, Percy, and Cedric had disappeared, leaving only a tranquil garden behind—
And two small saplings planted in this garden (the only two champions "still competing").
In the direction of the maze beside the Forbidden Forest, the huge explosion and the piercing green skull and snake image in the night sky were just the beginning.
Like igniting a long dormant beacon fire, the sky over Great Britain was instantly torn apart! The Hogwarts mark had not yet dissipated—
"Boom!"
Not far away, from the roof of the Three Broomsticks, a similarly large, eerie green Dark Mark shot skyward, illuminating the ancient buildings surrounding Hogwarts Castle like a spectral graveyard—then the green "fireworks" almost engulfed the entire sky—
The London Ministry of Magic, the roof of the Leaky Cauldron, Birmingham, Manchester, Edinburgh, and even the rarely visited North Sea coast... representations of death—ghostly green serpent shadows—that emerged from the void one after another, in just over ten seconds, spread like the outbreak of a zombie virus, countless Dark Marks connected into a tragic green sea—
Thus, panic, like a substantial giant wave, began to sweep through the crowd, dispersing, the audience stands already plunged into terror, chaotic screams and the crowd impacting the somewhat fragile stands structure, if no one steps up, perhaps England's worst stampede incident is about to take place.
Therefore, a red light shot out from that "lush green" skull in the sky, "Silence!"
Dumbledore's voice transmitted from that phoenix's mouth, seeming to have a calming effect, everyone stood subconsciously in place, blankly looking up at the sky, while the Aurors hurriedly took advantage of this moment to step forward, pulling aside some particularly large individuals—
But the next moment, before the red bird in the sky could say a second word, a bone-chilling coldness appeared abruptly around them.
As if a cold front crossing from Siberia halfway across Eurasia, completely without warning, permeated the entire audience stand and began rapidly spreading outward, a bizarre, lifeless inhalation "huh... huh..." breath sound, miraculously became clear among the still panicked screams.
Soon after, numerous tattered black cloaks—Dementors—surfaced continuously from the seams of Hell, in numbers far beyond anyone's imagination, like murky, silent tide waters, sweeping across.
Sporadic Patronus light ignited among the audience, but within a blink, this omnipresent despair suppressed most of the silver light, extinguishing it like smoke as soon as it formed, the not-yet-graduated little wizards first couldn't withstand it, feeling all beautiful and happy memories instantly drained, they began collapsing in clusters.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Professor McGonagall shouted sternly, her silver-white tabby cat at this moment was more like a fierce tiger, swinging claws to scatter the Dementors around and temporarily driving away a patch of darkness, "Too many! Where are these things coming from?!"
"I wish I knew!"
Kingsley also brandished his wand, a gigantic lynx Patronus flared up like a shield, standing tall against the tide of Dementors, "Prioritize protecting the students! Form a defense! Watch the sk—" Dirge's vigorous roar drowned in the crowd.
The Aurors' response cannot be said to be slow, but they were instantly enmeshed in a two-front battle.
Not only do they have to deploy Patronus defenses to protect the terrified crowd, but they also have to face the unexpectedly trained and organized Dementors now swarming towards them.
"Damn it, these ragged nuisances seem smarter!"
Tonks shouted in near despair.
"Don't lose heart! Remember how to use the Patronus Charm?!"
"Of course!"
"Then don't waste words!"
Moody slammed his wand to the ground, the silver-white glow repelled the Dementors several meters.
In the audience stands, Sirius's face turned increasingly pale, a silver-white large dog circled around him, holding off Dementors outside, his handsome face slightly distorted, he had to stay here to protect the little wizards around him, thinking of Percy, who had just dragged Harry off the screen, his gray eyes almost ignited with fire—
"What exactly do you plan to do to Harry! He trusted you so much—"
Thus, Sirius unexpectedly turned back to confront William—he roared, rushing to William without even noticing the chairs and Crookshanks he knocked over, Bill and Charlie reacted quickly, immediately holding the man tightly.
"You absolutely could have prevented all this from happening, unless—"
Sirius stared, gray pupils filled with disbelief.
William didn't answer, he simply smiled, then under Sirius's gaze, the boy's figure vanished like a foam.
A crowd of people were left looking at each other in dismay.
Yet the Dementor attacks continued, and the crowd of puzzled onlookers were quickly forced back into combat.
The battle seemed to allow people to forget the horrifying speculation in their minds.
Of course, chaos was happening far beyond just Hogwarts. Soon, requests for help from all over the British Isles poured into the Ministry of Magic like an avalanche, overwhelming the communications. Fudge, his face flushed, sat at his position. He was the only Minister left sitting there, looking at the screaming pager in front of him, the man closed his eyes.
He clasped his hands together at his chest and began to pray to the "Gods" he'd heard about from who knows where.
...
"Whoosh snap!"
In the dark, two human figures rolled on the ground, clasped tightly together.
"Percy" — or rather, Barty Crouch Jr — did not loosen his iron grip in the slightest. Instead, he quickly shook off the aftereffects of Apparition and roughly yanked the struggling Harry to his feet.
Despite being violently manhandled, the boy remained dizzy. He struggled to focus his vision, inhaling the air thick with the stench of death. The crimson film of blood in front of his eyes faded away, and as he glanced at the skewed, decayed tombstones around him, a sense of isolation and despair suddenly surged in Harry's heart.
Barty Crouch Jr ignored Harry's instinctive struggle. The mask of Percy's disguise on the man's face rapidly collapsed and peeled away, revealing a twisted, manic expression underneath. Those pale brown eyes burned with pure, unhinged evil.
He forcefully dragged Harry to the center of the graveyard — next to a low stone platform, hastily carved with a crude hand.
"No... let go!"
Harry struggled fiercely, trying to slow his momentum by hooking his heels against the ground. His magic wand had vanished in the earlier scuffle.
At this moment, the scar on the boy's forehead began to throb painfully. "Move forward," "kneel," a voice like a demon's whisper echoed in the boy's ear. He wanted to resist, but fear, anger, and a deep, soul-defiling nausea threatened to make him vomit.
Finally, he was dragged by Barty to within a few steps of the stone platform.
The boy opened his eyes to see a gigantic, hideously ugly thing perched atop the platform, drawing Harry's gaze. Immediately, a primal sense of disgust and terror suppressed his every feeling, making him almost instinctively start retching.
It was Igor Karkaroff's body.
But now, the former Durmstrang headmaster's husk looked like an abandoned, ragged doll, lying half-limp on the stone platform, his face ashen and lifeless.
The most horrifying thing was that where his neck should have been, an enormous, nauseating tumor pulsed violently.
The tumor's surface was covered in tangled, purple-black veins like gnarled tree roots, and at the top of the tumor, two long, scarlet slits opened in a straightforward, uncaring manner — eyes, no, those were not eyes! They were blood-red tears linking Hell to the real world, glaring fiercely at the dragged Harry.
Voldemort…
Harry could hardly imagine it. He had believed the Voldemort at the back of Quirrell's head to be ugly enough, but now he could not fathom there was a form that could assault human physiology to this extent.
The urge to vomit even rendered the boy's usual reflexive mocking quips temporarily ineffective.
"Master..."
Barty Crouch Jr's voice was now stripped of its disguise, filled with a reverent fanaticism. Like discarding trash, he violently shoved Harry to the forefront of the platform, the force sending Harry stumbling forward, arms striking the cold, hard ground heavily enough to suck in a painful breath, the raw wound from the Explosive Snail injury also flaring in agony.
"Very well, Barty, you've done well..."
That voice, both familiar and strange, a hiss that grated like gravel rolling within a rusting metallic drum, loaded with coldness and a deeply repressed excitement, emanated directly from the pulsing tumor, reaching Harry and Crouch's ears. It was the same voice echoing relentlessly in Harry's mind.
The scarlet vertical eyes on the tumor moved towards Harry, the stare as tangible as venomous spines, momentarily freezing Harry's blood.
The searing pain radiating from his forehead scar now pulsated in time with his racing heartbeat.
"Harry Potter..."
Voldemort's voice was slow, hoarse, with each syllable clinging to a malevolent intent and a sinister satisfaction, "Heh, how do you like it, little one... do you think what's in my mind is nice to look at? Do you want to see it again?"
This sentence hit Harry's heart like a sledgehammer.