Harry Potter and the Secret of the Patronus

"Are you…absolutely sure?" asked Hermione, her voice wavering.

They stood alone in the Headmaster's office, the most secure room in Hogwarts, with the fading light of evening settling over them.

Harry nodded, the strain tightening in his features. "Yes. I want it to be you who does it."

Hermione swallowed. She knew how hard this was for him. But it had been made painfully clear to both of them that there was no other way.

She squared her shoulders, steeling her nerves. She pressed her wand to his head, making a circular motion. "Obliviate."


Harry Potter waited on the platform between 9 and 10, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet. He held a wrapped gift in his hands. He'd had to rush to prepare it, but it was something he'd thought she would like. At least, he really hoped so. It had been so long since he'd seen her that he wasn't sure.

Three years had passed since the Dark Lord's return. On that night in June 1992, Voldemort killed thirty-six death eaters, their deaths used in dark rituals. Professor Quirrell, Harry's mentor and friend, fought valiantly against the Dark Lord but was defeated. Then, just as Voldemort was about to rise to power, he was destroyed by Hermione, who had come back from the dead just in time to defeat him.

At least, that was the story everyone remembered.

If Harry had heard that account in his first year, he would have assumed it was fabricated by the Quibbler. It was too ridiculous to be true. And yet, people believed it, perhaps because it wasn't the first time the Dark Lord had been destroyed by a child. However, instead of a baby left with only a scar, the Girl-Who-Revived came back to life with superpowers. Specifically, the regeneration and strength of a troll, and the speed and purity of a unicorn. She even had alicorn fingernails.

Harry really wished he could remember how that happened.

Harry glanced down at his present, covered in slightly wrinkled wrapping paper. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous. He knew that gifts were often accepted and forgotten, hidden in the corner of a room somewhere. In spite of the collected data from their letters, he couldn't predict if Hermione would like it, since a lot had changed in three years. She was a 5th year now, as well as an Auror-in-training, and a world of experiences separated her from the girl he'd known in 1st year.

Still, if she didn't at least smile at his gift, he would have to check and make sure she wasn't Polyjuiced.

"You'll break the platform if you keep bouncing like that, Harry," teased his dad, wrapping an arm around his mother's waist. "It won't bring her here any faster, either."

His mother smiled knowingly. "Come now, he needs to release his nerves somehow. He's waiting for the love of his life."

Harry cringed, but the annoyance and indignation he'd felt the first hundred times they'd done that had faded to grim acceptance. They simply couldn't understand that he could be friends with Hermione and not want to jump her bones. Even Hermione's parents, who didn't really like him all that much, had pressured Harry to start saving for the wedding. Every time he got an owl from Hermione at breakfast, without fail someone would ask how things were going with his "girlfriend," and then snicker at how clever their joke was.

Ignoring them was easier. Harry didn't have time for petty arguments. Or a girlfriend, for that matter. He had bigger problems.

On the summer after his 1st year in Hogwarts, Harry Potter received a letter. It congratulated him for solving the problem of mortality and defeating death. And then it explained why Harry had chosen to delete the knowledge from his brain. For example:

1) The world isn't big enough for everyone to be young and immortal forever. Even after exhausting every esoteric and obscure form of magic known to Wizardry, there's simply not enough food and not enough space (Harry's brain always added "yet.")

2) Blood purists will steal your secret and start a class war (Harry was iffy on that one, it seemed more paranoid than logical).

3) You are not allowed to have the secret that undoes the social fabric of the world until you have the means to remake it. And that's significantly harder than the food and space problem (Harry had decided his future self was a pessimist).

4) You are absolutely not allowed to have deadly secrets that will get you and your friends murdered until you have the means to protect them (Okay, fair point).

The part of Harry that wanted to be suspicious had known that this was exactly the sort of thing he would have done, if it were all true. He wouldn't have told himself all the reasons, just the ones that were safe to write down, and if he really did fail at implementing immortality on multiple points, then that was enough cause to show restraint the second time around.

There had been other clues presented, enough to persuade Harry that he was 99% sure this wasn't a joke. And then he had talked to Hermione, and she had her own note, along with one more piece of information.

Harry reasoned, even before talking to Hermione, that he had left the secret to immortality in a living vessel, something like Slytherin's monster. Hermione's letter confirmed that, and then said that his secret would be revealed once he reached the stars. Harry had only taken a few minutes to figure out what new problem he needed to solve.

Someone was forcefully rubbing his hair, and he jerked forward. "Mum, stop!"

"Well, why didn't you get it cut like I said two days ago? You look like a shaggy dog."

"It looks fine, Mum," Harry said, smoothing his hair back in place. Harry was pretty sure he was on the mad scientist route, and if history served, they didn't care about their hair.

"When I was a boy, we would fluff ours up a bit more in front." His father raised his eyebrows. "What concerns me more is that you never went to the optometrist."

Harry was sure he could find a magical way to fix his prescription without wasting money. If not, what was the point of magic?

Suddenly, there was a train whistle, and Harry glanced around, searching the crowd.

"Harry!"

His eyes zoomed in on a girl wearing a blue Beauxbatons uniform, walking towards him like she had her own personal cloud. She was smiling and waving, a magic chest crawling behind her.

Harry realized at that moment that he hadn't really believed she was coming back to Hogwarts for a year. An owl should have come in, telling him Madam Bones had changed her mind about letting her travel with the exchange students. It couldn't really be true that Hogwarts was the last stop on her way to becoming an Auror, or that their little tournament could be important enough to require her presence.

Harry couldn't stand still. She was so close, so why was he still standing there? It had been over a year since he'd last seen her, but he had to resist the urge to run to her, because then he would never hear the end of it from his parents.

So he waited the half a minute it took for her to cross the platform with all her luggage while her parents struggled with lifting their suitcases over the curb. He didn't understand why they wouldn't just let her charm them, but whatever. When she was finally there, standing in front of him with the slight shimmer of an angel, he calmly walked to her and gave her a hug. "Hi Hermione," he said, his voice breaking a little.

She squeezed him tightly. "Harry." Her voice was full of emotion. "I've missed you."

When he pulled back a few moments later, he realized something was different.

"Oh my," said Petunia. "Your daughter has grown up quite well."

"Yes," said Hermione's mother, smiling gently. "I don't know where she gets it from, but I'm sure she'll pass even George's height someday."

And Harry looked up at Hermione to see her rolling her eyes, though good-naturedly, like she was used to this by now.

"Not to mention, she's as beautiful as her mother," said Mr. Granger. "Why, just last week she was voted by Witch Weekly as the most eligible witch of Beauxbatons. Top marks in all her subjects too, even the extracurriculars."

"Harry's been doing well in Hogwarts too," said his mother, patting his shoulder a little too rapidly. "Tell them, Harry."

The one time he'd tried to broach the topic of his research with his father, he'd looked at him flatly over the rim of his glasses and said, "I'll tell you what I tell all my grad students. I suggest you learn to crawl before you run."

And his mother would faint if he mentioned the other stuff.

"Studying," said Harry.

There was a moment of awkward silence where Harry realized he and Hermione were being watched. He was supposed to make with the normal human interaction already, but it wasn't normal if you knew both sets of parents were dissecting what you said.

Harry cleared his throat, glancing up again at his tall friend with her bushy hair tamed into a braid, and realized he wasn't sure what to say.

His mother was shoving his shoulder. "Give her the present, Harry."

Harry blinked. He'd almost forgotten. "Here," he said, passing it over.

"Thank you," replied Hermione, examining the very book-like shape of it. "Well, I wonder what this could be." There was a curious look in her eyes, eager anticipation of her new study material.

And just like that, Harry knew that she was the same Hermione as ever.

Suddenly, they were bumped into by a traveling caravan of redheads, all of them rushing.

"Fred, I swear, if it weren't for your meddling hats..."

It was common knowledge that if you were later than the Weasleys, then you were LATE and had better get a move on.

"Well, I guess we'd better..." said Harry.

"Mum, Dad, I think it's time to go," said Hermione.

The two students hugged their parents, Hermione's mum and dad holding her a little bit longer, looking a bit more worried when they let her go. Then Hermione and Harry went through the entrance and appeared again at platform 9 and ¾.

Once they were on the other side, Hermione let out a sigh.

"Sorry about my parents," she said. "They don't have many people to brag to about me, so they always go a little overboard when they do."

"Actually, I would say they held back on a few things. Like how you're advancing in your Auror studies faster than any on record, and how you invented a hex that holds back Dementors."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You've read the Daily Prophet article, I see. Keeping tabs on me?"

"Of course," said Harry. They didn't have much time, but Harry couldn't pass this up. He headed toward the stalls. "Although, I prefer to get my news from other sources."

He strolled over to the newspaper stand and bought a copy of the Quibbler. Hermione groaned, her hands covering her eyes.

Harry grinned. "Let's see what Hogwarts' preeminent seer has to say." He read the headline:

Hermione Granger Crashes Dementor Wedding

"You know," said Harry, between snickers. "Some part of me really hopes this is true. It would finally explain where the Dementors come from. Though it wouldn't explain the lack of baby dementors." Harry kept reading. "And it looks like you also got drunk and fended off the romantic advances of house elves."

"That's not how it happened..." Hermione muttered.

Harry's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Oh really? Then please, explain exactly how this actually occurred. And don't leave out any details."

Hermione stuttered, her face bright red. "He wasn't a house elf, he was a 4 year old boy, and he gave me a hand drawn Valentine, and it was cute! I swear, why Luna Lovegood always likes to pair me off with House Elves or Boggarts or whatever, I'll never understand."

Professor Quirrell's voice murmured in Harry's mind. Humans would rather tear down their heroes, so they can feel good about the fact that they are living mediocre, boring lives.

Harry swallowed and dismissed the thought, putting the Quibbler in his moleskin pouch. "Well, at least no one except a complete idiot would believe those things," said Harry, smiling at Hermione. "And fortunately, most people at Hogwarts aren't complete idiots. So you should be safe there, at least."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," sighed Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, the Quibbler still prints exclusives about who they suspect might be the Boy-Who-Lived's son. Apparently, Draco and I are in a rocky patch right now, and are considering divorce after our secret three way marriage with a muggle, who bears the burden of raising our son so we can brood over each other."

Hermione chuckled, and Harry thought it was nice, since her laugh wasn't something you could print in a letter.

"That gets points for inventiveness, at least." Hermione glanced down at the present. "I suppose I should open this now."

The Hogwarts train whistled, and both of them looked up. "How about we do that on the train?" suggested Harry.


Hermione Granger sat in the train car, watching Harry laugh himself into a puddle while clutching Hermione's present.

"Listen to this one: Heisenberg, Schrodinger, and Ohm are driving together in a car..."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. She wasn't disappointed with her gift of 1001 Science Jokes, but she had pointed out that this was a Harry present, not a Hermione one. He'd objected and said he'd definitely had her in mind when he bought it. She'd read a few jokes, but he'd claimed, "You're not reading them right, here watch."

Harry Potter had gone on to prove her point by laughing so hard he was almost lying down on the train cushion.

Hermione didn't really blame him, she just thought the whole thing was amusing. He'd probably assumed that whatever he would enjoy, she probably would too. Which explained a lot of things about Harry, now that she thought about it.

"...And the cop says, 'You know there's a dead cat in that box?' And Schrodinger is like…'Well, I do now!'" Harry paused for her reaction. "Aww, come on, it's funny!"

"If you say so," said Hermione. It was kind of funny, but it was more fun to tease him.

"I'll get you yet, Granger," he muttered, looking through the book for another joke.

Hermione turned to look out the window, at the rolling fields of Scotland. She felt a tug at her heart at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. It almost felt like she was cheating, trying to go back in time to a place she didn't belong. What would her classmates think, seeing a Ravenclaw walking around in the light blue robes of Beauxbatons?

"You know, things have changed at Hogwarts," said Harry quietly. Hermione turned to him, but he was looking out the window. "The Headmistress agreed to allow a pre-algebra course, and we have science in Transfiguration at least once a week. Bullies don't bother people in the halls like they used to. They know I'll see it, and, well..." He let that thought trail off. "There's still a long way to go, but rational thinking isn't as rare as it used to be."

Hermione smiled, and said gently, "I'm not worried about going back because I fear my safety, Harry."

"I suppose you wouldn't be," he said. "I just thought, with the way negative experiences affect the brain, you might be nervous to go back due to simple association of a place with an event, even if you don't have a reason to be afraid anymore. Sort of like, avoiding ice cream after you get sick on it, only…a bit more serious."

Harry scratched his head. "Anyway, I've been working on reforming Hogwarts for more than that reason. Ultimately, the future of Magical Britain is in their hands, and we will need them to complete our plans."

Hermione nodded, knowing he meant more than just his plans to reform the school.

In the summer after her first year in Hogwarts, Hermione had received a message. It explained the origin of her new body, and she'd been shocked to learn that she might be immortal. However, it warned her that the means to achieve immortality needed to be hidden until the world was ready for it. The message didn't explain why, but it didn't need to. Hermione could easily see how immortality would be a powder keg the size of Jupiter.

Harry had told her he thought their letters were written by him, but Hermione wasn't sure about that. The one who'd written her letter had been kind, encouraging, almost like a father. He (or she) told Hermione that she had something important to do that would prepare the world for a great change.

She had to discover the secret of the Patronus.

And no, the letter pointed out, it wasn't the same as Harry's secret.

When she'd told Harry that, he'd been a little bit irritated. "One secret isn't good enough?"

Hermione had thought she'd have time to study with Harry, so that they could unravel the secrets together, but life had other plans.

The summer after her first year, Hermione returned home to her horrified parents, who told her that she would never, ever set foot in Hogwarts again. She'd tried to be patient, to give them time to adjust to the fact that she was alive and no worse for the wear (despite her drill-defiant alicorn teeth). However, the next school year, they wouldn't even let her go to a non-magical school, and forced her to study at home. All she had were her desk, 1980s era textbooks and too much free time.

Though, she did have an old Halloween costume, and a mask to hide her identity.

She spent a few months experimenting with fighting crime and…well…that had been a Mistake.

After she'd gotten released on bail, representatives from the Ministry of Magic came to call on her. They offered 13 year old Hermione a proposal. She would be trained at Beauxbatons, a school with an exceptional Defence against the Dark Arts program, and would spend her summers on Auror training. They normally didn't admit British girls, but they made a special exception for her. The way Hermione saw it, if it could keep her out of jail, she was a step ahead. And there was an awful lot of good she could do as an Auror.

She'd been so proud, excited at the thought of making a difference in the world, but…

Hermione glanced at Harry, his fingers absentmindedly opening the joke book, as if he wanted to make one last attempt. She smiled, her heart aching with a mixture of feelings she didn't know how to describe.

It was so nice to see him, and perhaps to work with him, again.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry had his wand out, pointing it towards the door. She gave him a confused look, wondering if she should also ready her wand, but he looked more annoyed than nervous.

"Enter," he said.

The door slid open softly, and two first year girls peeked inside, their eyes wide when they saw Harry's wand pointed at them.

"Oh, hello," said Hermione, standing up to partially block Harry's aim, even though he was already putting his wand away. "Do you need something?"

The girls turned to each other, giggling and smiling nervously, before the shorter one said, her voice rising higher with each word, "Can we have a picture with you?"

"Of course! Come in," said Hermione, scooting aside and patting the space on the seat next to her. One of the girls timidly gave her camera to Harry, and he snapped the photo of them together on the seat. Hermione talked with the girls for a few minutes, and then they left, bouncing and whispering and waving at her as they went.

"Well," said Harry. "I can safely say I hadn't been expecting that...though honestly, I really should have."

"What were you expecting, exactly?"

Harry sighed, and she could see his leg bouncing beneath his robe. "Something weird happens every year on the Hogwarts train. One year, we were attacked by Dementors. Another year, two 7th years got into a fight and blew up a train car. And last year, I was accosted by a 3rd year who sat down across from me and started lecturing me on the importance of the snitch in Quidditch."

Hermione chuckled. "Oh, the horror." Then, she frowned. "What happened with the Dementors?"

"I killed them," said Harry, then paused. "I think."

"You think?"

Harry shook his head. "It was a particularly strange year at Hogwarts. No one exactly knows what happened at any particular time, and many of us remember the same event completely differently. Every time I've tried to discuss it, I've caused arguments, rambling terror rants, or blank stares. I've learned through experience that it's best for everyone involved if we don't talk about it."

"Something tells me," said Hermione, her chin resting against her hand. "That you had something to do with that."

Harry grinned. "I can neither confirm nor deny that I was involved in the weirdest year in the history of Hogwarts."

Hermione sighed and turned toward the window.

Same old Harry.


When Harry and Hermione made it to the Great Hall, Harry had already made plans to meet together at least three times that week. He'd also explained that at any moment, she could contact him using the Auror mirror he'd procured. Hermione couldn't help feeling a little smothered, but it was sort of comforting, like how a relative would wrap you in a bear hug after not seeing you in a while.

After getting off the boat, Hermione's step faltered when she saw her headmistress walking alongside the shorter, but incredibly more terrifying, form of Madam Bones. Hermione always thought that if a razor blade could be transfigured into a human, then it would look like the Auror director. Madam Bones sliced through the crowd, intent on Hermione.

"Miss Granger," said Madam Bones, her voice stern. "What are you doing here?"

"The headmistress said I could go on the Hogwarts train," said Hermione, her voice faltering. "Did I do something wrong?"

Madam Bones shifted her grey eyes to Harry, who had stopped when Hermione did. A fleeting, unreadable expression crossed her face, and she turned back to Hermione. "Come with me. Something has happened that we need to discuss."

"Yes, ma'am," said Hermione, and followed Madam Bones. They cut a path through the swarm of students entering the giant doorway, many of them shuffling away in awe from the celebrity.

Leaving the swarm of noise and excitement that was always there at the start of a new year, Hermione and her mentor escaped to a vacant room in Hogwarts. Madam Bones cast several privacy charms before levelling her piercing gaze on Hermione Granger. "Why did you go on the Hogwarts train?"

"I wanted to get here sooner," admitted Hermione, standing pin straight, hands at her sides. "The exchange students from Beauxbatons won't be here for two more weeks. I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would be a problem."

Madam Bones' stare was still hard, her wand held firmly in her hand towards the door.

"The problem isn't that you came early," said Madam Bones, a condescending edge to her voice. "The problem is that you are both a student of Beauxbatons and an Auror-in-training. As you know, all students are, with few exceptions, required to use their school's mode of transportation on the first day of the new year. Some will see it as disrespectful and disloyal not to travel with either myself or your fellow students. And I say this with all due respect to the honour of Hogwarts, where I graduated as a Gryffindor."

Hermione had to fight to keep her face neutral. Showing that she was hurt or angry wouldn't be taken well. Madam Bones had always been stern, fierce, and a bit intimidating, but she'd usually been fair to Hermione. It was only recently that she'd started to treat her differently, harping on her for every little thing, and Hermione couldn't figure out what she was doing wrong.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione again. "I will be more mindful of these matters in the future."

Madam Bones nodded tightly. "You will be, or I will not be so lenient next time. These are things you should be able to see, Hermione. I shouldn't have to tell you."

Hermione nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"Now," said Madam Bones, her tone turned grave. "I have something to tell you which must not leave this room. The Headmaster of Durmstrang has noticed something strange, which may be related to the re-instigation of the Triwizard Tournament. You must keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual, and report it to either Auror Crell or myself immediately. The other three Aurors and trainees were already informed earlier this afternoon." It was unspoken, but Hermione could hear that she would also have been briefed, if she had been there.

"I understand," said Hermione.

"You will be given further instructions shortly. Please keep your mirror ready in case one of us needs to contact you. Also, I will remind you again that you are a representative of the Aurors, and your actions should reflect that. This is doubly true because of your celebrity status. Please conduct yourself accordingly."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I will not be attending the first dinner of Hogwarts, but some of the other Aurors will be, and you may go join them now if you like. Headmaster McGonagall said she wishes to see you at your earliest convenience. You are dismissed."

Hermione left the room, found a small corner to hide in, and cast a disillusionment charm over herself. She sucked in shaking breaths, feeling sadness and shame wash through her. Madam Bones was right. She shouldn't have taken the train to Hogwarts, but some part of her had been hoping it was okay to have just a few minutes of peace with her friend. To feel like everything was normal.

She left the corner only after her mirror showed her that she looked like a cheerful celebrity once again.


Chapter notes:

Hello everyone! This is set in the universe of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality (HPMOR). In this story, Petunia marries a professor of biochemistry. Together, they raise Harry to be a scientist who wants to figure out the secrets of magic. Harry and Hermione are both sorted into Ravenclaw, and this story starts in their 5th year.

If you're curious about HPMOR, I recommend it, it's really fun to read. :) I will be posting a summary of HPMOR in an additional chapter, which you can look over if you're wondering about backstory. You don't need to read it to understand my story, though, since it's fairly self-contained. If there's anything you need to know, I'll post it in the notes. :)

Harry's Patronus Secret:

Harry's secret is that he found a way to make a Patronus that can destroy Dementors. However, not everyone can learn this kind of Patronus, so he keeps it a secret unless it seems like they're "ready" to hear it. He fears if he tells them before then, they won't be able to make an animal Patronus.

Slytherin's Monster:

Slytherin's monster, in this universe, was actually a means of storing information. High level magic cannot be passed down through written word, but only through living minds. So, to bypass this law, Salazar Slytherin created a monster that can hold all his secrets, which would then be passed on to an heir that spoke Parseltongue. Voldemort found this monster, listened to all the secrets, and then killed it.