And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the field below. …
Before he'd had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch and looked down.
At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again. … Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head … a woman …
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now. …"
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"
Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain. … What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her. … She was going to die. … She was going to be murdered. …
He was falling, falling through the icy mist.
"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy. …"
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.