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Pigeons

Dementors used to be an endless source of embarrassment for me. While others dreaded them because they feared what they would be forced to confront, because they were about to meet the weakest part of themselves, my sinking feeling and cold sweat had a more superficial reason.

I was never like the rest of them at school: Sirius with his easy charm, Remus' deviousness, Pete's solid presence and James' optimism. I could never compete with Marl's feisty attitude or Lily's fierce intelligence. But then they were the seventh years, the future of Wizarding Britain, old before their time. I was the pretty sixth year and sometimes girlfriend of the rebellious Sirius Black. It was me who painted Marlene's nails on a Saturday night and did Lily's hair before her dates with James. I was the one who helped make sense of Pete's disastrous love-life and went shopping with Remus for dress robes.

We all have roles we're supposed to fulfil. We don't have to like them.

I was dragged into the war well before I joined it. Sirius called time on us after his first confrontation with the Death Eaters, telling me that 'It was for the best' with his eyes shining in sincerity. The letters I received from Lily and Marlene were filled with light chatter and sad jokes which thinly veiled the hardship of their life post-Hogwarts.

I knew what was coming. Protected as I was by my friends and the castle walls, I could still hear the rumours and the see the distraught faces at breakfast when the owl post arrived. When the Aurors arrived at school one icy Saturday afternoon to offer us self defence lessons, I jumped at the chance. With less than a year left, I was determined to be useful in the war effort. I couldn't be another liability. I wasn't just the pretty sixth year.

We practiced new curses and refined old spells that day. Towards the end of the session, one tired looking Auror gathered us round to introduce to us the idea of a Patronus. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. I had seen countless examples of Patronuses when the others had been here the year before and had always wanted to see what my inner strength resembled.

One by one, we cast the spell. Eagles soared to the ceiling and jungle cats charged at walls. At last it was my turn. I gripped my wand and furrowed my brow, ready to meet this part of myself.

A pigeon fluttered out of my wand and circled the room once before disappearing in the wintry sunlight that crept through the window. Disappointment and shame coursed through. A pigeon. Really? That was all my inner strength could muster up? A sodding pigeon?

When Sirius next wrote to ask about the session, my reply was airy and dismissive. 'Oh you know, it was just the standard charms and curses we'll need to know to protect our homes and give us time to escape an attack,' I wrote. He pestered me for a description of my Patronus but I wrote back in great detail about how the sun came out from behind a cloud just as I cast the spell and all I could see was an indistinct silvery cloud.

'That's a shame,' he wrote back, 'Let's hope you never find out what it looks like though.'

I was four months out of Hogwarts the first time I met a Dementor. Sirius and I had arranged a small get-together at the Leaky Cauldron and I was hurrying to arrive on time. I turned onto the main street of Diagon Alley when a coldness swooped over me and Sirius' face floated into my mind, his lip split, eye bruised and nose bloody and broken. 'It was Bellatrix,' he rasped. 'I only just got away.'

It didn't occur to me what was happening until I saw the tall darkness approaching me. My shaking hands searched for my wand and my thoughts grasped at happiness.

'Expecto Patronum!'

The pigeon flew towards the Dementor, its wings beating hard to fight it off. It flew higher and higher, diving at the Dementor. Its claws seemed to tear at the black cloak and all the while those wings beat furiously.

The Dementor gave in and disappeared. Relieved, I eased my concentration and my pigeon gradually dissolved into the air. I took in two or three shaky breaths and stared at my feet, trying to calm myself.

Strong arms grabbed me. My shriek was cut off by a hug and a mouthful of soft dark hair. Sirius' pale face peered at me.

'Em, oh Em. Thank God. Thank God.'

I hugged him back, trying to feel safe but the shame was creeping back in. My cheeks flushed and I shifted uncomfortably in his arms.

'I can't believe you saw that,' I mutter. 'I didn't want anyone to see my Patronus.'

I sounded like a petulant child but I didn't care. The one person I wanted to be strong in front of was the one person who saw the pathetic reality of my inner strength.

Sirius released me and took a step back. Shock mixed with incredulity.

'Of all the things to say...' he trailed off.

He took my hand and guided me towards the pub.

'Have you ever looked at a pigeon before, Emmeline? Have you ever really considered what they put up with?'

I sighed. 'Trust you to try and make me feel better about this.'

Sirius chuckled and pushed a kiss onto my cheek.

Above us, high on the rooftops, a group of pigeons huddled together for the night, insulating themselves from the cold.