Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and all of the creatures in it. But I invented the Frothy Snidget.
Note; This fic has nothing to do with Harry or the gang, these characters are all my own. Don't let that put you off, though.
"Alright then, Mr…Merryweather?"
"Yes…that's right."
The balding wizard looked down through his half-moon spectacles at the sheet in front of him, and then looked back again at the skinny young man sitting opposite him.
"You're three months into your training to become an Auror, is that correct?"
"Er, yes. Yes."
"Hmm. Yes." The wizard looked again at the parchment on the desk. "This recommendation from Armando Dippet calls you 'outstanding'…Capable of extremely advanced magic, especially talented in charms and transfiguration…and eight "Exceeds Expectations" at NEWT level! My, that's very impressive."
"Thankyou, Mr Derwent."
"But you've got a problem?"
"Er. Yes, sir." The thin young man said, his cheeks turning a dull shade of pink. He seemed to be concentrating on looking anywhere but at Mr Derwent, who was the head of the Auror Training Complications department, and was privatley thinking to himself that this young scrawny thing didn't look at all outstanding.
"A problem that goes against requirement #59 of the Auror Specification legislation?" Mr Derwent continued, scanning the parchment.
"Yes, sir." Came the mumbled reply.
Peirsly Derwent blinked, scrutinized the notes again, and then pushed his glasses up his long nose and stared at Miles Merryweather with a barely concealed air of scepticism.
"You…Can't produce a Patronus?"
-
Miles blushed again, self-consiously smoothing his mousy hair. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he shook his head and kept staring at his shoes.
"But you have all the right qualifications, excellent grades…I don't understand, Mr Merryweather."
"I don't quite understand it myself, sir."
"You've never been able to produce one?"
"No, never."
"Dear me." Derwent shook his head and adjusted his glasses some more, which seemed to be a habit of his. He considered the matter for a moment, and then he said in a more gentle tone, "The incantation is relatively simple, especially for an advanced wizard such as yourself. The procedure is straightforward, nothing more is required except…"
Miles hung his head miserably.
"Not one?" Derwent said, astonished by the answer to his unasked question.
Miles shook his head and looked up, hopeless and sad as a wounded deer. Derwent felt an extreme wave of sympathy pass through his old heart, which was unusual, as he was normally a stern and unemotional man.
"Not one hopeful or happy memory." He said, mostly to himself. "that's the saddest thing I've heard since I found out that my owl had Cancer of the beak."
-
"What did old Derwent say, Miles?"
Eric Bobbin, looking cheerful as ever, clapped Miles heartily on the shoulder when they met the next day at breakfast. Eric, like Miles, and the ten others who were sitting around chatting, was in his third month of training to be an Auror. Up until now, Miles's 'little difficulty' hadn't been too much of a problem…But as the next part of their Auror schooling was going to be 'Dealing with Dementors, Lethifolds and other Dark Creatures", it couldn't really be ignored much longer.
"He said there was nothing they could do." Miles sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his robes ,which were too big for him. "He said, the only hope you have is to go and get yourself something to be happy about- otherwise…"
"Otherwise?" Eric prompted.
"Otherwise, I'm not fit to be an Auror." Miles said gloomily. "Not being able to produce a…you-know-what" (he dropped his voice, not wanting the rest of the group to hear), "well, it limits me from all sorts of things. Passing messages, contacting others…" he sighed, rubbed his bony-fingered hands over his face.
"I'm doomed, Eric. I may as well give up now."
"Miles, that attitude isn't going to help. You're a gloomy git but you're not stupid. Or deformed, or incapable. So why can't you produce a bloody Patronus?"
"Shh! I don't know." Miles replied, trying not to look too upset. "everything's always been a bit miserable, I suppose. You know about my parents.."
"Yes, yes, killed on a holiday in Africa when an Erumpent exploded outside their tent."
"Yes, so, that wasn't very happy, obviously. I didn't have anyone to be proud of me when I got good marks, so getting my NEWTS wasn't really that much of a celebration. And because I spent all my time doing my school work, I never really made any friends…Oh, listen to me blathering on." Miles said, itnerrupting himself and clearing his throat. "Anyway, the point is, I've not got much to be happy about. Becoming an auror would make me happy, but whenever I think about that, all I can think is that I won't make it because I can't-do-the-stupid-Patronus!"
He wrung his hands, exasperated.
Eric looked sympathetic. "It's a big, nasty misery circle."
"It's just that." Miles agreed.
-
Miles was the sort of person who you'd think was born for sadness. He had glassy eyes that were the sort of colour that the countryside goes in the rain- a foggy and dull green- and a thin and unimpressive appearance. His forehead automatically crinkled at any slight emotion and the corners of his mouth turned down naturally. The only way he'd have looked more miserable would have been if he were standing in the pouring rain not wearing any trousers.
And that had happened to him, once.
He was shy, often wary of speaking up or being assertive out of fear that he'd get something wrong and be laughed at. He never usually got things wrong- at least, not when it came to school and things, where he was very clever- but in social situations, he was hopeless. He'd never have survived his first few weeks at the Auror Training unit if it hadn't been for Eric, who had sort of adopted him and kept an eye on him a bit.
He was also prone at times to falling into an attitude of despair and despondency- although he didn't like to feel sorry for himself, he often got stuck in a way of thinking that he could find no way out of. It was like being at the bottom of a very deep cauldron, and not being able to climb out because the walls were rounded and smooth.
Training to be an Auror was challenging and difficult even for the brightest of wizards, and it was competitive too. Miles had gone from being the cleverest student in his year to being just one in a group of twelve exceptionally gifted wizards and witches, and it was hard at first- they were always trying to out-spell each other, trying to prove that they could produce the best silencing charm or mix the best truth potion.
Miles, as was his way, kept his head down and worked hard and hoped desperately that no one would ever ask him to produce a Patronus on the spot. That was unlikely, but when surrounded by eleven others who were seemingly flawless in their own magical abilities, little problems and difficulties became something one could easily get paranoid about.
On Sundays, the apprentice Aurors were allowed some time to themselves. A lot of the students (there were a hundred and seven there at the academy altogether) would spend this free time in the library, or in the large, empty rooms, which were designed for practising in. Miles himself had spent many long hours in these rooms, trying and trying to produce a Patronus, but coming up with nothing more than a weak sliver of smoke.
That Sunday, Miles was too disheartened to practice or study. Instead, he went for a long walk in the drizzling grey afternoon. The Auror Academy was hidden on the outskirts of a small city, and the students would often don muggle clothing and stroll the mile and a half through the countryside into the city. Of course, there were disused shops that muggles simply passed right by, which were in fact popular wizard chain stores and hang outs. Miles himself favoured a small bar called The gulping glumbumble, where he would usually sit by the window and read whilst sipping at a Butterbeer or a Frothy Snidget (a golden, bubbly drink that tasted like melon). Miles liked Sundays, and enjoyed the time to himself were he could relax and forget about the things that were troubling him. It was the time in his day-to-day life where he felt the closest to content, and whenever he attempted to produce a Patronus, he'd usually try to think of the times he spent there.
It still didn't work, though.
So, Miles was headed for The gulping glumbumble, his hands in his pockets and his feet dragging in the puddles, and not paying any attention to where he was going. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the whirr of a bicycle or the ding of a bell telling him to get out of the way.
As it happened, he didn't even notice the bike until it was right in front of him. He panicked, tried to step out of the way just as the person on the bike swerved in the same direction to avoid him. With a crash and a yell, Miles, bike and cyclist were thrown in every direction.
Miles smacked his head on the pavement as he fell, and the world clouded and went dark for a long minute.
"Oh, buggering hell." Said a voice above him, to his left a little. "Are you alright? You berk, you walked right in front of me. What were you thinking? Come on, open your eyes."
Miles obeyed without meaning to. His vision was blurry, but he blinked a couple of times and gradually everything swam back into focus. Leaning over him was a dark-haired woman not too much older than himself, concern and irritation in her grey eyes.
"Berk." She said again, shaking her head. Miles sat up, ruffled.
"Excuse me." He said angrily, "you're the one charging your bike along a public lane."
The woman stood up and went to pick her bike up from the ground. "You'd have seen me perfectly well if you'd been watching were you were going."
"That's not the point." Miles said, gingerly touching his aching head.
The woman piled up the books in her basket and began to walk the bicycle off again.
"Aren't you going to ask if I'm all right?" Miles said, upset and annoyed by the stranger's rudeness. She didn't even look back at him, simply called over her shoulder,
"You're well enough to sit up and argue. That's fine with me."
And she climbed back onto her bike and cycled away, leaving Miles sitting on the pavement, in more of a foul mood than ever.
His afternoon suitably ruined, Miles mooched back to the Academy and spent the rest of the day helping to feed and wash the small herd of Aethonans that were kept on the grounds. Usually, spending time with these calm and beautiful winged horses helped Miles to cheer up a little, but he was so distracted and annoyed by the dark-haired girl that he hardly noticed what he was doing.
"You could turn men into stone with that frown, Miles." Eric said that evening at dinner, cheerful as usual. "Bad day?"
"Some daft cow ran over me with a bike." Miles replied. Eric laughed heartily, buttering a bread roll and stuffing scrambled eggs into his mouth at the same time.
"I swear, Milesy." He said, shaking his head, "You've got the worst luck in the world."
-
"Dealing with dark creatures is never something that should be taken lightly." The head Proffesor of their group said,the following Monday. "The things you will meet in this part of your training aren't things you will ever have come across in your garden, or at the zoo, or even in your Care of Magical Creatures lessons. These are dangerous, unpredictable and untamable beasts…And, well, as I'm not qualified to deal with such, er, things, your tutor for the next six weeks will be Proffesor. Brocklehurst."
"Oh, I'm not a professor. Call me Kate." Said a familiar voice.
Miles, who had been half-asleep, suddenly stood to attention and craned his neck to see over the head of the tall boy in front of him. With a sinking feeling, he recognised her instantly. The woman standing in front of the class was the same girl who he'd collided with the day before.
"Eric" he hissed, tugging the arm of his friend's robes. Eric frowned and leaned in to hear him better.
"What's the matter with you?"
"That's her, that's that girl on the bike!"
"the daft cow?"
"Yes!" Miles said despairingly. Eric took a second look at Proffesor Brocklehurst and grinned.
"She's young, for a teacher, isn't she?"
"Eric, please don't tell me you fancy her." Miles groaned. Eric was a bit obsessed with girls, and had a reputation for flirting with everyone, even the teachers.
"Well.." Eric shrugged, "she's not bad looking."
"You two, at the back!" the head Professor suddenly barked at them. "Pay attention, unless you want to die horribly."
Miles thought that this was a bit over the top, but forced himself to turn his attention back to Kate Brocklehurst. She was explaining to the group how, yes, she was young, but she'd been working with dangerous creatures her whole life (her father had been a famous explorer), and she knew what she was talking about. By the end of the lesson, most of the group (including Eric) was quite taken with her.
"She's two knuts short of a sickle." Miles overheard Albert Gunther saying to his friend, that lunchtime. "Did you see the way she picked up that baby Occamy with her bare hands?"
"Big deal." Miles couldn't help himself saying. "It was only a baby one."
"It was still cool." Albert shrugged.
"I'd let her pick up my baby Occamy." Albert's friend quipped, and they both fell about laughing. Miles felt himself blushing, as he usually did whenever the boys started getting crude.
"Ahh, Miles is going red!" Albert teased, ruffling Miles's hair and laughing some more. "Someone's got a crush."
"Don't be disgusting." Miles protested. "She's a teacher!"
"She's not a proper teacher, she's not old enough. Anyway..I'm sure that won't stop you, Merryweather, you little stud."
"Shut up." Snapped Miles, who usually got on well with Albert and couldn't quite explain why he was getting so wound up about it. He only knew that everything about 'Kate' made him feel a confusing rush of irritation and anxiety that he couldn't put his finger on.
Over the nest few weeks, Miles began to think that perhaps Kate didn't have a clue that he'd been the one who she had knocked over and called a berk.
She was a tough teacher, reprimanding them for not paying attention even though they were all only a couple of years younger than her, but she had a wicked sense of humor at times. Eric and the other boys would flirt with her a lot, seeing her more like someone's clever, tough sister than as a teacher. She acted the same way towards Miles as she did with all the other students, if she spoke to him at all. In her lessons, Miles kept to himself and listened to what she said, containing the writhing feeling in his stomach whenever she looked his way.
They learnt how to deal with all sorts of creatures, from terrifying ghouls to rabid werewolves. And then, one day a couple of weeks away from finishing the course, Miles's worst fear came true. It was unexpected and cruel, a misleadingly pleasant July afternoon and a lesson outdoors, when Kate met them on the grounds, clapped her hands together and said brightly-
"Dementors!"
Oh, no. Miles thought, feeling both sick and empty at the same time. He hadn't been prepared for this. Shouldn't they have had some warning first? Shouldn't someone have told him? He looked desperatley at Eric, but the taller student was already rolling up his sleeves and getting his wand ready. Before he could say a word, Kate was off.
"Of course, we haven't got a Dementor," she was saying, "They're not exactly desperate to volunteer as class assistants, but this is just a simple excerise that I'm sure you all know off by heart anyway- the most effective way of repelling a Dementor-"
Don't say it, Miles silently pleaded-
"is to produce-"
Oh, Merlin, anything but this..
"A patronus!"
Miles swayed a little on the spot. The other students were nodding confidently and muttering to each other ("mine's a rabbit, what's yours?") and Kate was telling them all to line up with their wands ready.
Miles meekly lifted his hand, feeling like he was stuck in a nightmare.
"Yes?" Kate said, frowning a little.
"I don't feel well." Miles said, and it wasn't that far from the truth. "I'm going to go inside."
Kate looked at him for a long time, her grey eyes narrowed, and then she nodded, and said, "Okay". Miles's head swam with relief, and he quickly picked up his bag and hurried back indoors, aware that most of the class was watching him go.
He really thought he'd gotten away with it. He was more cheerful than usual the next few days, thinking that he'd managed to avoid the worst and that it wasn't likely to come up again for a long time. But, when relaxing in the large sitting room one evening, another student came up and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"Yes?" Miles blinked.
"Kate wants to see you." The boy said offhandedly. "She's in the Advanced Charms classroom, she told me to come and find you."
Miles walked slowly to the East wing of the Academy with the same feeling, he imagined, that a convincted man must feel when walking to the gallows. He felt even more sick and nervous than before, although surely it would make sense to be less worried- wouldn't it be better to just explain to Kate that he couldn't do it, rather than having to explain in front of the whole class?
No, his speeding heart said firmly.
He knocked on the classroom door and shuffled in, haing to clear his throat a couple of times before he could find his voice. Kate had been curiously poking a stuffed owl, her back to him, and had jumped a bit when he coughed behind her.
"You wanted to see me?" Miles said moodily, not looking at her.
"Yeah." Kate said, folding her arms and leaning against the desk. "I just thought, as you missed my lesson earlier this week, you could quickly show me your Patronus."
"But-but-" Miles stammered, "you said it was just a simple excersise."
"It is!"
"Then why do I have to prove I can do it?" he said, and then without thinking, he blurted out, "you can't make me!"
"Oh, please. Just do it."
"No, I don't want to!"
"Do it, Miles!"
"No!"
"Miles-"
"I can't." Miles found himself shouting, his cheeks hot and his eyes burning. "I can't do it! I've tried to for years and its just not possible, I can't do it, it won't be done."
He was more surprised than anyone could have been that he had just said all of that, especially to her. An awkward silence settled between them like snow, and Miles blinked quickly to get rid of the stinging in his eyes. After a moment, Kate shook her head and dropped her arms to her sides. Miles hoped- and strangley feared- that she would just tell him to go, but instead she looked at him and said in a voice that was uncharacteristically soft,
"Nothing in this world is 'not possible', Miles. Everyone's got a Patronus inside them."
"I haven't."
"Yes you bloody have." Kate said, stepping forward and lifting Miles's chin up with the tip of her wand. "And you're going to find it."
-
Miles couldn't believe it. He couldn't possibly have thought of a situation he'd less like to be in every evening after classes had finished- stuck in a room with Kate Brocklehurst, being made to re-learn the theory, the method and the execution of producing a Patronus.
At first, nothing came of it at all. It was simply three hours of both Miles and Kate getting wound up and arguing with each other- Miles would sink into a hopeless and self-critical state when he couldn't do it the third, or fourth or fifth time, and Kate would keep pushing him ("okay, try this-" "hold your wand up a little more-" "you're not concentrating!") until they both reached their last nerve and one of them stormed out.
And yet, they would both return the following evening and apologize for whatever they'd said, and the whole thing would be repeated again. But things started to change after their tenth session- Miles began to realise that, when she wasn't being tough as nails, Kate could actually be okay.
On one particularly warm evening, she said that she wasn't in the mood for yelling, and that they should go into town and get an ice cream- and that was what they did. About a week later, when taking a break from Miles' futile attempts at the spell, the subject of Frothy Snidgets came up and Kate was so curious that Miles took her down to The gulping glumbumble and treated her to one.
Miles slowly began to realise that he was actually having fun. Kate was witty and impulsive, and even though he hated having to prove his uselessness over and over, Miles had to admire her determination. Unlike him, she never said, "I give up!" or "this is pointless!" and on the fourteenth session, when Miles yelled Expecto Patronum and brandished his wand, a sphere of silver light about the size of a football blossomed and hung around for at least two seconds before melting away. Kate shrieked with an unusual girlish glee and flung her arms around Miles in a fierce hug.
"Y'know what, Milesy?" Eric said at lunchtime one day around a huge sandwich, "I think I actually might have seen you smiling this morning."
"So?" Miles said, carefully not looking at Eric and pretending to be absorbed in reading.
"So nothing." The boy shrugged, chewing noisily. "I've just never seen you look happier, and that's saying something. Whatever you're taking, I want some of it."
Miles had to admit that he had been feeling a little strange the past week or so- a bit lighter, like he'd been carrying around a heavy bludger for a while and it had been taken out of his arms. Days passed by a little quicker, and he found himself looking forward to his evenings spent in that classroom. He started noticing things that he'd never paid much attention to before- like the green of the trees on the way into the city, and the smell of blossom on the grounds, and the way Kate's eyebrows arched when she found something funny or interesting. The curls of Kate's hair when she had it loose. How Kate's eyes were the colour of the sky before it rained.
"My course is finishing in a few weeks."
Kate said, the next evening. Miles nodded, distracted by copying down the diagram of the wand movements required to conjure the Patronus.
"I know." He said. He thought he heard her sigh, and turned to look at her. She had a strange expression on her face when she said,
"So, I won't be teaching here any more."
"I know." Miles said, confused about where this was going. And then he realised- if Kate wasn't teaching here, she wouldn't be here. He dropped his quill and stood up, not sure what he was doing.
"So-You'll be gone?" he said.
"Yeah." She shrugged, putting on her nothing's-wrong face and pretending to be interested by something outside the window.
"But-"
"Hey, you've come this far, Miles." She said, giving him a rare smile, "you're not going to tell me that it's impossible now, are you? I'm sure if you keep working on it, you'll be able to produce that Patronus in no time."
"But-" Miles tried again.
"But what?" Kate said, finally looking at him. Miles felt his heart quiver and something took over his brain that wasn't like him at all. He felt certain that his heart and his mind had just swapped places, and that rational thought was now somewhere in his chest where it wasn't doing any good.
As if he was in a dream, Miles heard himself saying,
"I don't want to work on it without you."
Kate's cheeks tinged pink. "Don't be a coward, you can do it."
"I know I can." Miles said, finding confidence from somewhere deep inside himself, "But I don't want to do it without you."
Her eyes met his, and he became very aware of the afternoon sunlight on her hair, and how the classroom smelled of chalk dust and Kate, and how close they were.
"I don't want to do anything without you." He said, without making the conscious decision to say it. His theory that his heart had taken over was proved when he then did a very un-Miles-like thing- he bent down a little, took a step closer, and kissed her quickly and lightly on the mouth.
-
How had he ever gotten this far in life without feeling this way? Miles spent the next day in a daydream. He couldn't help himself from smiling at everyone he met, and found himself joking and laughing with Eric as though he'd been doing it all his life. Inside of him, there was a fluttering, light feeling like a Snitch had been set loose behind his ribs, and he found himself delighted by the smallest things- oh, they've chilled the pumpkin juice for us. Ahh, look, one of the Nifflers has escaped. Isn't it a beautiful day?
Everyone commented on this new attitude, and everyone laughed in a friendly sort of way when Albert nudged Miles and asked him if he had a girlfriend, at which Miles blushed to the roots of his hair.
After lunch, one of the professors approached him and asked Miles in a stern sort of way to follow him to Mr Derwent's office on the third floor. Miles felt a sinking feeling- had it all gone wrong so soon? Had he done something wrong? Nervous, he did as he was told, trudging up the stairs and anxiously rolling up his shirtsleeves as he waited outside after knocking on Mr Derwent's door.
"Come in, Miles."
Said the familiar voice from within. Miles took a deep breath and stepped into the room, to find himself faced not only with the head of the Auror Training Complications department, but with a slim-faced old witch with a clipboard.
"sir?" Miles said nervously.
"Nothing to worry about, Merryweather." Mr Derwent said, although he did look a bit worried. "Madame Purfett here-" he gestured to the witch beside him,"-has just been looking through your notes and we can't seem to find any record of you being able to produce a patronus."
"but, sir-" Miles said, terrified. Mr Derwent sent him a warning glance.
"Now, I've told her about your- complications- but she has told me that unless you can produce a patronus sufficiently, you, er, aren't qualified to be training as an Auror."
Miles's heart sunk. He couldn't believe it.
"Proffesor Brocklehurst, however, tells me that you've been working on producing a patronus for the past few weeks and you've made a significant development. Is this true?"
Miles croaked, weak at the mention of Kate's name. "Yes, sir."
"Excellent." Mr Derwent said. "So, if you'd just like to demonstrate.."
Miles stood rooted to the spot. They were asking him to produce one now? But he wasn't ready, he wasn't prepared. He couldn't do it. And his future as an Auror depended on it, and the stern looking witch was watching him intently. It was no good. He'd just have to give up now, admit that he couldn't do it, go and get a job washing dishes somewhere.
He closed his eyes, and suddenly he heard Kate's voice in his mind, telling him weeks ago, everyone's got a patronus inside them. He remembered eating ice cream with her in the city, walking beside her and how their feet fell into time with each other without meaning to. He remembered buying her a Frothy Snidget and her laughing when he got the froth on his nose. Kate- her stormy eyes, the strong line of her jaw and the tinge of her cheeks when she blushed. Kissing Kate in that sunlit classroom under the watchful eyes of a stuffed owl.
Kate.
Miles opened his eyes and brandished his wand, pointing it at Mr Derwent's desk. With a deep, confident voice that didn't sound anything like the shy, unhappy Miles of the past, he said, "Expecto Patronum!"
And from the tip of his wand, a bright, silver something blossomed and formed. It separated itself from the wand, sleek and agile, with a long shining tail and pointed ears. It leapt lightly onto the desk, and the light caught it so that Miles could make out every fine hair on its back. The patronus jumped with effortless grace from the desk and onto Madame Purfett's hat, where it sat for a moment and then melted away.
Miles couldn't believe it. All his life, he'd never been able to do it, and yet there it was- his patronus. Gorgeous and elegant and shimmering silver. Mr Derwent smiled and nodded and told Miles he could go, and Miles stumbled out of the room and down the stairs in a daze.
He crossed the grounds, the sunlight dazzling him. He could see Kate near the fountain, demonstarting the properties of a baby Fire Crab to a group of students.
Miles strode right up to her, took the Fire Crab out of her hands and set it down in the water of the fountain. Then, to the whoops and catcalls of the group of students, he took her hand.
"Miles?" she said, startled and amused.
"I can do it." He said breathlessly. "Look- Expecto Patronum!"
He flung his wand towards the grass, and once again, the shining silver animal leapt forth and pounced. It sat on the edge of the fountain and swatted its paw at the Fire Crab, magnificent even under the bright sunlight. Kate gasped and squeezed his hand, and the animal seemed to brighten even further, leaping from the fountain and melting away again.
The group of students applauded and Miles went a bit red, but hardly had time to consider it. Kate beamed up at him.
"It's a cat!" she said.
"No," Miles said, "it's a Kate."
He put his arms around her, pulled her close and kissed her again in the warm glow of the July sunlight, and didn't care who saw.