Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers …
    ‘Don’t ever talk about that again,’ Harry snarled. ‘D’you understand me?’
    ‘Point that thing somewhere else!’
    ‘I said, do you understand me ?’
    ‘Point it somewhere else!’
    ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?’
    ‘GET THAT THING AWAY FROM –’
    Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water.
    Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless – the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.
    For a split second Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that he’d been resisting as hard as he could – then his reason caught up with his senses – he didn’t have the power to turn off the stars. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil.
    Dudley’s terrified voice broke in Harry’s ear.
    ‘W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!’
    ‘I’m not doing anything! Shut up and don’t move!’
    ‘I c-can’t see! I’ve g-gone blind! I –’
    ‘I said shut up!’
    Harry stood stock-still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense he was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up – he opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.
    It was impossible … they couldn’t be here … not in Little Whinging … he strained his ears … he would hear them before he saw them …
    ‘I’ll t-tell Dad!’ Dudley whimpered. ‘W-where are you? What are you d-do—?’
    ‘Will you shut up?’ Harry hissed, ‘I’m trying to lis—’
    But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading.
    There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air.
    ‘C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I’ll h-hit you, I swear I will!’
    ‘Dudley, shut—’
    WHAM.
    A fist made contact with the side of Harry’s head, lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. For the second time in an hour Harry felt as though his head had been cleaved in two; next moment, he had landed hard on the ground and his wand had flown out of his hand.
    ‘You moron, Dudley!’ Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain as he scrambled to his hands and knees, feeling around frantically in the blackness. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling.
    ‘DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU’RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!’
    There was a horrible squealing yell and Dudley’s footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could mean only one thing. There was more than one.
    ‘DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!’ Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders. ‘Where’s – wand – come on – lumos! ’
    He said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help him in his search – and to his disbelieving relief, light flared inches from his right hand – the wand-tip had ignited. Harry snatched it up, scrambled to his feet and turned around.
    His stomach turned over.
    A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.
    Stumbling backwards, Harry raised his wand.
    ‘Expecto patronum!’
    A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn’t worked properly; tripping over his own feet, Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore down upon him, panic fogging his brain – concentrate –
    A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor’s robes, reaching for him. A rushing noise filled Harry’s ears.
    ‘Expecto patronum!’
    His voice sounded dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke, feebler than the last, drifted from the wand – he couldn’t do it any more, he couldn’t work the spell.
    There was laughter