AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 19: The Patronus Charm
Harry breathed out and nodded. He tried not to dwell on the duel much, knowing how close he and his friends were to dying that night. "What could you do?" he questioned.
"Be your friend, nothing more," Black said. With a wry grin, he continued, "assuming I live, that is. Fudge seems to want me buried under Azkaban if he can get away with it."
"If you stay, he could do just that," Harry said in a quiet voice. "Everything he has done so far is to keep himself in power. Once he learns you're in custody, he's going to push hard to have you executed. You've eluded him and the Ministry for like nine months. That is a major mark against him and his power-base."
"I have to trust Amelia and Dumbledore," Black said with a twitch of his cheek.
"My friends are waiting for me in the Three Broomsticks. How did you escape anyway?" Harry questioned as he looked around the destroyed house.
"That's my secret," Sirius answered with a laugh. His face turned serious as he looked around. "So many memories here. Remus is a werewolf; he told me that you knew. James befriended him in our first year. It took some time, but Lupin saw sense. They brought him here while he was in school so he could turn safely, away from the other students. When we found out, we became Animagus to accompany him through his transformations," he said as his smile slid off his face. "Harry, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of your father."
"All the more reason to get out of the country. Go and live for yourself. Is there anything left for you here?"
"You," Sirius answered in a serious voice. "I'm not asking you to call me dad," he joked but it fell flat. "Harry, I'm not afraid to show you dark magic. You need to know what you're up against."
Harry frowned and shook his head. "I'm not interested in learning the Dark Arts," he said after a moment.
"My family are as close to dark wizards as you get without becoming one officially. I thought the same way you did while I was in school. It wasn't until the war truly broke out that I realized how disadvantaged James and I were. If you don't know what's coming at you, you don't know how to counter it and keep the people around you safe."
Harry frowned but didn't answer. "I need to get back to my friends. They're going to start to worry," he said after a bit.
Sirius' face fell but he nodded. "You're right. Dumbledore will send someone to find me if they haven't already. I'm technically not supposed to leave my rooms," he admitted with a sigh. "Shall I see you off?" he questioned.
"Would it be wise?" Harry asked with a smirk.
"No, but where is the fun in that?" Sirius said and transformed into the large black dog. His pink tongue lolled out as he jumped out the window in one bound.
"Where have you been?" Ron asked as Harry sat down. The Three Broomsticks was packed. Students crammed themselves into open tables, all of them eager to get a pint of Butterbeer. The sheer volume of noise bothered Harry's sensitive ears.
"What about your beer?" Harry yelled over the indecent chatter.
"Been, where have you been?" Ron yelled. "We've been waiting for ages!"
"Wandered around a bit to think," Harry lied with a shrug. "So, what did you want to show me?" he questioned.
Ron showed off all the sweets and joke items he'd bought. He made a show of displaying one item before looking at Harry with a smirk. Harry, trying to be polite, played Ron's game. It was the last item that caught his attention though. A black deck of cards with moving faces and images on the top.
"Hey, you could use a card like this as a container for a spell or charm," Harry mused, picking one up. The head of a Hippogriff reared back, its eyes wide. The sight of the magical creature made him think of Buckbeak. His mood fell. "I wonder how the case for Buckbeak is going," he said in a soft voice.
"Did you say you wanted more Butterbeer?" Ron asked, trying to talk above the burst of cheers from the next table.
"Never mind, this is cool," Harry yelled back.
"I know right! Look! You can almost see through this witch's robes," Ron yelled, just as the conversation around them came to a pause. His shouted words hung in the air as everyone turned to look at him.
"What... are you two looking at?" Hermione questioned, her eyes narrowing.
Ron tried to duck the jinxes a few older witches sent at him but didn't get out of the way in time. Angelina Johnson appeared by the door, glaring at Ron. "Yes, Ron," she hissed. "What are you looking at?"
"Fer robes gar fransparent! Fit's an invisibility fard," Ron slurred through his swelling lips, spittle flying out of his mouth.
"Huh, would you look at that. Her robes are fading away," Alicia commented as she picked up the card Ron dropped when he fell over.
Ron grumbled and complained into his Butterbeer while Madam Rosmerta, the inn's owner, looked him over. "You'll be fine. The reaction of two of the jinxes will wear off in a few hours," she said before moving back to her bar. Harry watched the curvy, attractive witch flash a smile at a group of male students near the bar. They stared back at her with similar, wide-eyed expressions. Hermione smirked at Harry but didn't say anything.
Fred and George turned up and started asking Ron questions about what jinxes he was hit with and how he felt. Upset and annoyed, Ron stormed out of the inn. Neville and Zoe turned up when Ron, Harry, and Hermione were heading back toward the castle. Neville's round face had a red tinge to it and Zoe couldn't keep eye contact with anyone.
Hermione decided not to go with Harry to see Professor Lupin. She didn't say anything, but Harry got the feeling that she was uncomfortable around the professor. He met the Lupin in his office while everyone was at dinner. "Professor," he called as he knocked on the cracked door.
"Come in, it is open," Professor Lupin called.
When Harry entered, he saw the shabby wizard's sallow skin and frowned. "I can come back another day, professor," he said still standing in the doorway. He'd noticed Lupin's complexion the previous day but hoped the professor would improve before their scheduled lesson.
"No, I'm fine. I just look terrible," the professor answered with a strained smile. "Close the door behind you and have a seat," he said and gestured to a solitary chair in the middle of the circular room. Similar to Professor McGonagall's office, the Defense Professor had a large fire as the centerpiece of the room. A large desk with piles of parchments scattered around the floor sat against the far wall. Paintings, sculptures, and diagrams covered every inch of the high walls. Seven massive pillars with strange carvings stood in the center of the circular depression in the floor of the room, extending toward the ceiling.
Harry closed the door and walked over to the chair. He took a seat and looked around at all the diagrams. The looping script and circular wheels made him think of the strange symbols Voldemort etched onto Zoe Stewart's body. "An ancient and dangerous branch of magic," the professor said when he saw where Harry was looking.
"I've seen something similar before," Harry admitted, his eyes flicking between the ancient runes engraved on the walls. When he realized what he was looking at, he realized he could read some of the diagrams.
"That is troubling. This room is... a Warding Room in many ways. It traps much of the dark and foreboding nature that comes from many generations of students. If left alone, traces of Dark Magic will fester and warp things around it. A sealed room, forgotten from the world and memory, can gather dark and dangerous strands of magic from the area around it. Dark calls to dark, just as fire calls to fire. While foreboding, this room is probably the safest place in Hogwarts should anything ever happen within these walls," Professor Lupin said with a smile. "Now, I believe we are going to work on your Patronus Charm. Are you able to cast the charm now?"
"I don't see why not," Harry answered, a little surprised the professor jumped right into casting the spell. He drew his wand and focused his mind on a happy memory. It took him a bit, but he chose the one where Dumbledore conjured a chair in front of him in the little motel room. "Expecto Patronum," he intoned, pushing all of his will and power into the spell. A clearly defined silvery mist hovered in the air in front of him, connected to the end of his wand. Harry frowned and dismissed the charm with a flick.
"That was strong," Professor Lupin said in a low voice. "Far stronger than you realize. What memory, if I may ask, did you use?" he questioned.
"When I first met Dumbledore. He told me I was a wizard and conjured a chair in front of me. At the time, it was the most amazing and wondrous thing I'd ever seen," Harry answered with a shrug.
"Can you conjure a chair now?" the professor asked, putting his hands behind his back and walking toward the wardrobe.
"Yes, with some effort. Yes, I can," Harry said with a frown.
"Then, how is that your happiest memory?" Professor Lupin questioned.
Harry was about to answer when the words died in his throat. "I don't know," he admitted.
"I will not permit a Dementor within the school but there are ways to simulate the same effects with spells. I've got a bewitched token of sorts that may help you. Sirius came up with the spell long ago to prank your father. It will make you cold. Every bone in your body will feel like it is freezing, similar to the effects of the Dementors," the professor said, pulling out a metal disk from his robes.
After several attempts, Harry shook his head and passed the disk back. "It just isn't the same," he said with a sigh. A cold feeling washed over him as he looked the professor in the eye. "I... I'm afraid of Dementors," Harry admitted after a moment. "We can use a Boggart," he suggested, hating himself for mentioning it.
"I forgot about that. I should have remembered that from our first lesson together," Professor Lupin said with a frown. "I may be able to find another Boggart but there is no guarantee. Let's focus on finding a suitable memory. It sounds like you understand everything required to cast the Patronus Charm except for the conviction required to produce a corporeal embodiment of your will."
"What do you mean?" Harry questioned. He ran over everything he knew about the spell in his mind and couldn't figure out what he'd missed.
"The Patronus Charm does what, Harry?" the professor questioned.
"It... well, it protects you from Dementors," Harry answered with a shrug.
"It does more than that. It protects you from the corrupting force the Dementors release. They steal part of your essence, your magic, to grow stronger. The cold in your bones is their magic corrupting your sense of self. Our sense of self is the very foundation for us wizards. This is something you will learn later, but why do you think your hair always goes back to the same style? You can cut it, change it, and shape it but it always manages to go back to your natural, mental appearance."
Harry pursed his lips and thought hard. An idea flitted across the back of his mind, something he'd read in the text Astoria got for him. "Our magic," he muttered after a moment. "Our magic is the embodiment of our will. Our self-image, what we can't cure when it is cursed, is maintained by our magic."
The professor blinked before smiling. "Very good," he praised. "As you read, a curse that causes permanent damage leaves traces of foreign magic in our sense of self. It blocks us from being able to heal the damage. It is why Mad-Eye has all those scars. Every one of them was caused by one curse or another. His sense of self, even after the attacker has died, has accepted his new appearance. It is also why some witches who are over a hundred or more still look middle-aged. They refuse to believe they are old and their magic maintains their bodies as best it can."
"How does... oh, the Patronus is the embodiment of our self," Harry muttered to himself. "We are connected to our self through the charm then?" he questioned, looking up at the professor.
"We are always connected to our inner self. The Patronus Charm calls that out to protect ourselves and others. That is where you have failed to understand the spell," Professor Lupin said in a low voice. "Watch," he said and waved his wand in front of him. "Expecto Patronum," he intoned. A velvety silver mist appeared from the tip of his wand. It seemed to caress the air around it and yet, it was stronger than Harry's shield. A feeling of warmth flowed over Harry's body.
"I think I see what you mean," Harry muttered, looking down at his wand.
"Do you?" the professor questioned, dismissing the charm with a wave of his wand. "Tell me, in your words, what you feel when you cast the Patronus Charm."
Harry swallowed and grimaced. "Sharp, rigid protection," he said after a moment.
"Try again," Professor Lupin said in a low voice. "Be honest with yourself. It will be the only way you can master this spell."
Harry breathed out and shook his head. He had a feeling he knew what the professor wanted to hear. The sharp, crisp feeling that washed over his skin when he cast the charm still tingled over his scarred skin. The professor waited in silence, his eyes unfocused, as he waited for Harry to answer. "A sharp, rigid anger," he admitted after a few minutes passed.
"Anger," Professor Lupin repeated with a nod. "Anger is a good word for it. Rage would be closer. You hate Dementors, Harry. Hate them more than anything else. They terrify you and you hate them for it. The Patronus Charm will never work like you want until you master your emotions. I noticed it at the Quidditch match and again just now. The crisp, almost painful feeling of your rage will protect you. Righteous rage or anger will shield you and those around you, but little more," he cautioned with a frown.
"I... I just hate them so much," Harry muttered. Images of his time in Azkaban flashed in his mind. He suppressed them with a savage snarl and clenched his fists.
Professor Lupin watched on with an impassive look on his face. "Talking about it may help," he said in a soft voice. "I am an excellent listener and nothing you say will ever leave this office."
"I don't think I can right now," Harry said and clenched his fists again. "If ever," he muttered.
"I understand," the professor said after a moment. "It is okay to not be perfect at every charm and spell, too," he continued with a smile. "You've already mastered the spell to some degree. You can protect yourself and anyone around you."
"How many people?" Harry questioned with a frown. "How many people could I potentially protect?"
Professor Lupin's eyes unfocused as he looked across the room. "With the strength I felt in your spell, you could protect yourself and maybe four others against one Dementor indefinitely," he said with a frown. "If more Dementors show up, well, it would be a matter of time until you were overpowered."
Harry sighed and shook his head. "That isn't at all what the books say the Patronus Charm is capable of," he muttered.
"A key component is missing, in casting the charm, Harry," the professor gently reminded him. "However, in time, I think you will master it. We can try again if you'd like."
Refusing to give up, Harry nodded and focused his concentration on getting the charm right. Half-an-hour and twenty failed attempts later, Harry collapsed back in the chair, sweat pouring down his face. "I can't seem to get it," gasped as he struggled to regain his breath.
"Harry, you're pushing yourself too hard," Professor Lupin said in a soft voice. "You can't force the Patronus Charm, it doesn't work like that. It isn't like lighting your wand. It is a complex and difficult spell to perform. Every single time you produced a strong shield that will ward off the effects of the Dementors. You're doing more than many adult, tried and tested, witches and wizards can't perform over and over. Are you trying different memories?" he questioned with a frown.
Harry nodded and wiped at his eyes under his glasses. The salt from his sweat burned the corners of his eyes. "Holding the memory can be hard," he admitted and rose on shaky legs to try again.
"I think not, Harry. You are done for today," Professor Lupin declared in a hard voice. "Not only will Madam Pomfrey string me up by my toenails, but Professor McGonagall will also express her displeasure with me. I've let you push yourself too far tonight," he admitted.
"I'm fine," Harry protested. "I practice this hard or harder when we were doing conjuring charms. This feels easy compared to that," he muttered.
Professor Lupin chuckled and shot Harry a wry smile. "Easy," he remarked with a snort. "The four of us struggled for two months to perform half of what you can do now," he said before his face twisted into a grimace. "Your mother rubbed it in our face that she learned it in three weeks and was able to produce her corporeal Patronus, a Doe, before all of us could. We were also a lot older than you are now," he remarked as he eyed Harry.
"Master Ogata said it came down to talent, a willingness to think and question, and a solid foundation. He said it was the secret to our success, whether or not we realized it."
"I'm not sure what he means by a solid foundation but the rest I agree with," the professor said after a moment. "Now, it's time you get back to the Gryffindor Tower. Come back at the same time on Thursday. I can't promise I'll have a Boggart by then, but I'll try."
Harry worked hard and pushed himself in every private lesson with Professor Lupin but he was unable to produce a corporeal Patronus. The professor's style of teaching was a stark contrast to Master Ogata's regimented, authoritarian style of introducing new concepts. Lupin took the time to give detailed points of view from different perspectives as he explained what he knew about the Patronus Charm. It awed Harry a little to learn how much the professor knew about a wide range of subjects, not just Defense Against the Dark Arts.
At dinner on Wednesday of the next week, Harry received an owl from Mr. Jorkins. The heavyweight, rough texture of the pristine white parchment of the letter made him feel a nervous energy course through his body. "Are you going to read it?" Hermione questioned, looking up from her dinner. She frowned as her eyes searched Harry's face.
"Maybe in the common room," he answered and pocketed the letter. He was glad he decided to wait. Anger, frustration, and resignation welled up in his chest as he read:
"Dear Mr. Potter,
I'm sorry to inform you that the appeals case advocating Buckbeak's release has not gone in our favor. The Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Gethsemane Prickle, and her full panel of experts heard your case and the evidence submitted on both sides. It came down to a narrow vote. The Hippogriff, named Buckbeak, is sentenced to execution by removal of their head on May 6th.
Mr. Potter, what should have been an easy case to advocate was one of the hardest in my life. I, as a professional, am appalled and horrified by what I saw during this case, however, it is the way of the world today. Money speaks louder than any fact. While this is not the outcome any of us wants, I will be passing along my experiences to fellow experts in the field so they may know the true nature of the British Ministry of Magic.
Enclosed is every detail I could collect from the court proceedings. Mr. Hagrid has a similar, but gentler copy of the same information. I left out some of the blatantly racial comments and criticism toward Mr. Hagrid. Odd how a department focused on magical beasts finds half-humans an aberration within the wizarding community.
Again, you have my deepest apologies and condolences for the outcome of this case. If you need anything at all, from council to just a friendly letter, I'm but an owl away.
Sincerely,
Stamford Jorkins"
Hermione shuffled in her seat and Ron tried to lean closer to read over Harry's shoulder. "They... well, they found Buckbeak guilty and he is sentenced to death," Harry reported.
"What!?" his small group of friends thundered at the same time.
"What did it say?" Ginny asked with shining eyes. Hermione nodded and tried to peer over the parchment.
"It was a close vote but Mr. Jorkins said money was involved and it looks like it swung the vote against us. Also, they didn't like Hagrid," Harry answered with a sigh. He passed the parchment across to Hermione who snatched it out of his hand and started to read, her eyes darting over the page.
"That's terrible," Ron muttered and looked out the window. "I wonder how Hagrid is doing."
"He got a similar letter," Harry said and looked out the window too. Hard, fat droplets of rain smacked into the glass as lightning flashed in the dark clouds far overhead. "I think I'll go see him," he said.
"We should all go, but not tonight," Hermione stated as she shook her head. "It's almost curfew... and Hagrid won't want to see us just yet. We have his class tomorrow after lunch."
That night, Harry stayed in the common room to practice his magic in one of the alcoves by the lit fire. He couldn't sleep and hoped magically wearing himself out would help. Seven transfigured statues, shrunken to the size of chessmen, floated in a circle in front of the window. They periodically changed shape or one of the statue's weapons switched with another. Harry labored to keep the multiple spells going as he concentrated with everything he had.
His concentration broke, making the statues fall out of the air when a gasp from somewhere behind him startled him. Blinking, he turned to see Katie Bell in her polka-dotted pajamas. "Uh, hello," he muttered. He turned back and vanished the statues he used for practice.
Katie blinked as she looked between Harry and his wand. "Blimey, Harry. What were you doing?" she questioned.
Harry grimaced and tried not to look at Katie's penetrating stare. His eyes fell on her toned arms and calloused hands. "Trying to tire myself out," he admitted after a moment.
"Try Wood's physical exercise routine. That wears me out every time," she remarked with a smirk. "What were you doing exactly? I saw a bit of it, but well, your back blocked most of the view," she questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Just trying to push my limits is all," Harry hedged and shifted on his feet. He felt awkward around Katie ever since the incident with the snake in the previous year.
"But what were you doing?" she pressed.
"Switching Spells, Conjuration, Transfiguration, multiple Hover Charms, and some Colour Changing Charms," Harry admitted.
"At the same time?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Well, no, not all at once," Harry answered with a laugh. "I couldn't do all that at once even if I wanted to. It was a struggle to keep four spells going at the same time."
Katie blinked her pretty eyes at him. "Uh, right," she muttered as she continued to stare.
"Why are you up so late?" he questioned, trying to divert her attention from him.
It took Katie a moment to respond to the question. "Angelina and Alicia are struggling with some of their review topics and got into an argument. It woke me up so I thought I'd come down here until they calmed down," she answered with a strained smile. "Harry, why do you push yourself so much when it comes to magic. Is it... You-Know-Who?" she asked after a moment.
"No, while Voldemort is alive," he started to say and ignored Katie's gasp and shudder," I just want to learn magic. Everything about it is amazing. I lived in the Muggle world and books became an escape for me during the holidays. It'd sit alone at the library or in a hotel room for hours on end, reading or watching the telly to pass the time until I went back to school."
Katie started to ask something but stopped. She started to say something again before she broke off with a grimace. "What is your favorite subject?" she asked after a moment of awkward silence.
"Probably Potions and Charms," Harry answered with a grin. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him about his life before Hogwarts but was scared to offend him. "What about you?"
"Quidditch," she answered with a lopsided grin. "I'm okay at everything but nothing is more amazing than Quidditch!"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "You sound like Ron," he mused. "I suppose everyone on the team except the twins thinks that way," he said with a laugh.
"Alicia wants to do something with magical creatures," Katie argued with a grin. "But yes, everyone on the team is devoted to Quidditch. The twins... well they are the twins. They use Quidditch as an outlet for their mischief so they don't get expelled," she finished with a musical laugh.
Harry spent half-an-hour talking to Katie about whatever topic came to mind. They went from Quidditch to broomsticks and somehow ended up talking about the finer points of woodworking. Katie's father, Harold Bell, owned a small shop in northern Britain that sold his historical woodcarvings. Her mother, a Potioneer by trade, met her father during a drunken outing that found them in Muggle London while Harold was visiting his friends. They literally fell over each other outside a pub and fell in love shortly after. Katie recounted the story with a wistful smile.
Hagrid's eyes were red and he shook like a leaf as he tried to teach the class. Malfoy decided it was a good time to gloat that his father got the 'miserable beast' executed by throwing money at the panel of judges. After Hagrid dismissed the class early, unable to continue without crying, the class marched back up to the school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to stay behind to console Hagrid. Neville had a dark look in his eye as he watched Malfoy's group leave with the others. He wasn't the only one who glared at the retreating Slytherins either.
"I'll make his life... as good as it can be... before," Hagrid said through his sobs. He cried into his huge hands, his shoulders shaking.
Harry didn't know what to say as he stared across the sweeping lawn of the bright spring day. Buckbeak, head held high, pranced around the large garden beside Hagrid's hut. The Hippogriff's shining, multicolored feathers reflected the sun as Harry locked eyes with Buckbeak. After a moment, Buckbeak's head dipped a fraction of an inch. Harry returned the sign of respect and felt a sharp pain in his chest.
They stayed with Hagrid until it was time to go to their next class. The half-giant did his best to smile at them as they walked back up to the castle in silence. Professor Lupin asked the class why many of them were quiet. When he discovered what happened, he breathed out and shook his head.
"We live in an unfair world," the professor said in a soft voice. "We will do what we can for Hagrid," he continued, looking over his students. "Today we're reviewing Hinkypunks. Before you know it, you'll be taking your end-of-term exams. As you know, Hinkypunks are one-legged magical creatures that look like wisps of smoke. Who can tell me what the common colors of smoke they appear as?" he asked in a louder voice.
Harry sat through Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, thinking about Hagrid and Buckbeak, barely paying attention to the professors. He answered their questions when they called on him but otherwise tuned them out. Hermione shot him exasperated looks but he ignored her.
At dinner, the Slytherins were hissing at the Gryffindors as they passed. At first, Harry couldn't figure out why until he heard part of a muffled conversation from the nearby Hufflepuff table. Draco Malfoy had been found tied to the Astronomy Tower's peak, greased and feathered. Someone tied a bit of rope around his neck. Crabbe and Goyle found their leader an hour before dinner, crying out for anyone to help him.
No one claimed credit and the next day Malfoy refused to talk about the incident outside the Potions classroom. Snape's outright hatred of Harry shown through his thin veneer of professional criticism. Harry no longer believed that Snape was just trying to teach him in his own way. The professor's every word dripped with barely suppressed anger while his eyes promised Harry the worst possible torture if he could get away with it.
"I wonder what made him so mad with you," Ron questioned as they left the classroom.
"Maybe he thinks I attacked Malfoy," Harry answered with a shrug. "I was with you lot so you know I didn't do it."
"Yes, but does he?" Hermione interjected with a frown. "You have attacked him before," she accused.
"I have," Harry agreed as they walked up the next corridor.
"You two going to run off again? It's Friday," Ron grumbled.
"Yes, would you like to join us in the library?" Harry answered with a laugh.
"What could be so interesting about the library on a Friday. We're almost to the weekend," Ron continued with a shake of his head. "I guess I can stop by the common room to see if Oliver has any more ideas we can try during our next practice."
During Divination, Hermione, angry and frustrated, almost got up twice to leave the classroom. During their tea leaves review, Professor Trelawney kept insisting Harry would die and Hermione would become an old shrew if she kept questioning Divination's magical power. Harry saw how angry Hermione was becoming and did his best to soothe her anger. She glared at him when he hit her with a muttered Cheering Charm from under the low table.
"Never try to use a Cheering Charm on me again without my permission," Hermione hissed through clenched teeth once they descended the ladder after class. Ron watched on with wide eyes as he looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione. Neville looked uncomfortable as he watched Hermione's reddened face.
"You were about to leave," Harry said in an even voice. He knew she'd be livid with him but decided it was worth her anger. "It isn't like you to give up. She may be a fraud, but you never give up on anything. The Cheering Charm was just a reminder that you're going through a lot. We all are," he said in a low voice.
Hermione's anger faded with a huff. "Never again, Harry," she repeated.
"I can't make that promise," Harry said in a serious voice. "You could be about to jump off a bridge or something. A Cheering Charm might remind you how smart you are and how much we'd all lose out if you died."
"Way to go, make her head even bigger," Ron grumbled.
Harry glared at Ron. "She is smart and she would be missed, you prat," he said before turning back to Hermione who was staring at him. "Now, we have Ari... lunch next," he said, fumbling over his words. He remembered at the last second that Ron and Neville were with them.
"Right, lunch," Ron agreed, his eyes brightening. "I wonder if they'll have steak and kidney pie again."
While Hermione's mood improved after Arithmancy and a great lesson with Professor Burbage in Muggle Studies, Harry's thoughts remained on Buckbeak and Sirius. He wondered how fair Sirius' trial would be if Buckbeak's life could be bought by bribing officials.
On Saturday, a loud knock on the study classroom door made Harry look up from the book he was reading. "Come in?" he said in a loud voice so whoever on the other side of the door could hear him.
The door swung open to reveal Angelina Johnson with her bag in her hand. Alicia Spinnet looked over her shoulder and waved to Harry. "Uh, can we study here?" Angelina asked as she came into the classroom but stayed near the door.
Harry looked at Hermione. She stared back at him with wide eyes. "I don't see why not, you have before," Harry said after a moment and turned back to see Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Lee Jordan by the door, grinning at him. An uncomfortable feeling settled around the pit of his stomach.
"Brilliant! The library is getting crowded every weekend now," Alicia said as she took one of the tables near the second platform. Ginny and Luna normally sat at that table because it was closest to the platform where they could practice magic against the wooden dummies.
"Fred and George said you did the place up nicely," Lee commented with a brilliant smile.
"I had help," Harry muttered and glanced at Hermione. His bushy-haired friend looked between the four students with a raised eyebrow before turning to Harry. He thought he saw a pitying look in her eyes.
"Can you teach us how to do it?" Katie asked as she batted her eyelashes at Harry.
The world ground to a halt for Harry as he looked at each of the witches in turn. He understood why Hermione gave him that look. "I'm not the best teacher for anything, you should ask Hermione," he said and gave them a sour look. He ignored the dull pain in his leg where Hermione kicked him in retaliation.
"We have," the three witches said with a grin. "She said you were the better teacher," Angelina continued with a grin. Lee looked like he was about to burst out laughing.
Harry turned his head slowly to stare at his friend. "Traitor," he muttered. He glared at Hermione when she let out a tiny giggle before trying to suppress it with a cough. Turning back to the others, he shook his head. "I've got my own projects and studying to do," he said in what he hoped was an apologetic tone.
"One hour a day," Alicia pressed. "Harry, I need to get good marks on my O.W.L.s," she continued.
"What makes you think I can help you with getting good marks?" Harry questioned with a glare.
The three witches stared at Harry with identical, disapproving expressions. "You can't fool us, Mr. Potter, boy-genius," Angelina said with a huff. "You and Hermione have worked harder and learned more than most of the fifth year students, if not sixth. Harry, we're begging you, please help us. Forty-five minutes a day. Just answer our questions, please!"
Harry couldn't help it, he grimaced and sighed. "I know there is an O.W.L. study group that Professor Vector leads on Wednesdays. Why don't you," he started to say but was cut off by Angelina and Alicia's shout.
"We already go every week," they argued. "We want you," Angelina declared.
"I'm flattered," Harry replied in a flat voice. "I'm not interested in teaching anyone, sorry," he continued with a sigh.
"Thirty minutes of your day! All you have to do is answer our questions, please!" Alicia pleaded, her voice raising an octave. "We really, really, really need your help," she continued, her eyes expressive as she stared at Harry.
"Why me?" Harry questioned and shook his head. "I'm younger than you and you'll have had longer to get all the information I might know. You need to be talking to Oliver Wood or something. Someone who's already taken the O.W.L. exams."
The three witches stared at each other before laughing. "Wood? Give him a Quidditch question and he can tell you every instance the play has been used in the entire history of the sport. Ask him about Disillusionment Charms and he might as well point and grunt for all he cares about it. If it doesn't have an application in Quidditch, he doesn't bother with it," Angelina said with a grin. "Love him to death, but he isn't what you'd call academic. You are. You also managed to stun adult wizards with your displays of magic during your inquiries. People talk, Harry."
Grimacing, Harry looked at Hermione. "Don't look at me, this is your problem," she said and went back to reading.
"Only if you persuade Hermione to answer your questions for thirty minutes too," Harry answered with a smirk.
Six eyes turned to Hermione who shifted in her chair. "You three really need to talk to someone like Professor McGonagall. She'd be able to help you," she said with a huff.
"We've tried," the three witches chorused, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Please!" they chorused again.
Harry felt an uncomfortable shiver run down his back as Hermione turned her eyes to glare at him. "I'll do it," Hermione said after a moment.
"You're supposed to have said no!" Harry complained and ignored the cheers from the others. Ginny, Luna, Zoe, and Neville came into the room just as the three older witches finished their short celebration.
"What did we just walk into?" Ginny muttered aloud and looked around.
"Trouble, lots of trouble," Harry grouched and went back to his book. He hoped if he ignored them that they would go away. His wish didn't come true.
April marched on in a rush as Harry focused on reviewing his coursework for the Advanced Course, tutoring the 'troublesome threesome' as he'd started calling them, and working with Professor Lupin on the Patronus Charm. It took two weeks but the professor was able to find a Boggart.
"Harry, take a deep breath before we start again. You're almost attacking the Boggart Dementor with your Patronus Charm now," the professor said in a soft voice. "Concentrate on protecting, not attacking," he coached.
"I just can't help it," Harry growled as he glared at the shabby wardrobe the professor used to keep the Boggart in. "I'm ready," he said after a moment.
"Okay," Professor Lupin said in a gentle voice. The professor looked worn and haggard. He'd explained the full moon took more out of him in the spring and summer than it did in the fall and winter seasons. With a flick of his wand, the door to the wardrobe burst open.
Harry focused his concentration as a hulking, dark Dementor appeared and started to glide toward him. The painfully cold chill permeated his bones as he fought to keep his broiling emotions under control. "Expecto Patronum," he bellowed, keeping his thoughts on shielding himself. Just as he felt his vision narrowing, the magic burst out of him and through his wand. He tasted a sharp, crisp sensation on the tip of his tongue as the silvery shield formed from the tip of his wand, blocking the Dementor's advance. He knew he'd failed when he could smell a faint scent of woodsmoke.
"You let your anger drive your willpower," Professor Lupin commented as he gently directed the Boggart back into the wardrobe with his wand.
"I can't help it. I see my vision going dark, I feel my bones turning cold, I hear her screams, and that bloody doctor!" Harry raged. Anger flashed through his veins. He knew he'd failed the spell. Knew he was the reason it failed.
"I think we should stop for tonight," the professor said in a soft voice, his eyes focused on Harry. "Your frustration is controlling your thoughts and emotions. Look around you, Harry."
Harry tried to breathe out and looked around him. Tiny wisps of red vapors licked at the edge of his vision. The professor told him that the stronger the wizard, the more magic will leak out when they have strong emotions. In Harry's case, the smell of woodsmoke and faint red vapors surrounded him when he lost control of his magic. "Sorry, professor," he said, some of his anger flooding out of him.
"Have you tried the meditation lessons your mentor gave you?" Professor Lupin asked and folded his hands behind his back.
"They... they aren't helping at the moment," Harry admitted after a moment. "It might be making it worse, I don't know."
The professor stopped pacing and looked at Harry. "You've been more on edge recently," he commented with a frown. "Do you mind if I talk to Dumbledore? To see if he might have any ideas about how to help," he questioned. "We may need to stop working on the Patronus Charm otherwise. Your... prolonged interaction with the Dementors isn't helping you."
"I just want to master this charm," Harry complained, his frustration welling to the surface again. "I want to protect myself and my friends," he continued but knew he was lying to himself. He knew, deep down, he wanted to banish the Dementors. Make them run in fear of him like he feared them; feared their power over him.
"I'll see what I can do," Professor Lupin said with a frown. "It's almost time to stop for the night. Do you have any questions unrelated to the Patronus Charm?"
"No, sir," Harry answered with a sigh.
"How is your... tutoring of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie going?" the professor asked with a ghost of a smile.
Harry started and looked up at the professor. "Uh, what?" he asked, trying to figure out how the professor knew.
"I questioned Miss Johnson about her last essay on the Reductor Curse. She had a little too much information in her essay and the wording sounded familiar. I'm not accusing you of writing the essay for her, but I noticed odd... statements, if you will, that stood out. It was almost if she'd asked someone for help and they'd given her an answer she didn't quite understand. She got most of the history right but a few sentences here and there seemed out of place."
Harry grimaced and sighed. "Yeah, she asked me about that one a week or so ago I think. All the days run together. Of everyone who was listening, Katie and Ginny of all people seemed to understand what Hermione and I were talking about the most," he reported and snorted. "I can use this to prove I'm not a good teacher and they should go to someone like you for tutoring."
"Oh, I don't know about that," the professor said with a small smile. "Miss Spinnet's marks have certainly improved over the last three or so weeks. A marked improvement if I'm honest. We teachers talk," he finished with a wink. "I think Professor Snape was the angriest. Katie Bell seems to have picked up a rather interesting set of skills that angered the Potion Master."
Harry grimaced again and tried not to laugh. Katie asked him about the technique Harry used to cut up his ingredients for the Wigenweld Potion he'd been making. He'd shown her what Snape had shown off during his detention week the previous term. She gushed over the knife-work and wanted to learn it. "Her mother is a Potioneer," Harry said into the lingering silence.
Professor Lupin hummed but didn't comment. "I'll speak to Dumbledore to see if he can come up with something to help you," he said and looked at Harry. "I've got a prior obligation Thursday so our next meeting will be in a week."
Harry nodded and stood. "Thank you for taking the time to help me. Even if I'm not moving as fast as I should," he said with a sigh.
"We move at our own pace, Harry. Some things we are good at while others we struggle to get right. You're remarkably advanced for your age. Don't forget that with time comes experience. I have faith you will produce a corporeal Patronus, in time."
Harry received a summons from Dumbledore two days later to meet him in his office before dinner. "Flumps," he said to the gargoyle guarding the hidden staircase up to the Headmaster's Office. At the top of the rotating stairs, Harry knocked on the door. It opened a moment later, swinging inward as a faint aroma of spiced, cooked meat tickled Harry's senses.
"Come in, Harry," the Headmaster called out, his voice light and welcoming.
Harry entered the opulent room and nodded to Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix, resting on his perch. "Professor," he greeted and turned to look at the aged wizard. Albus Dumbledore looked somehow older than he had in the Ministry Courtroom.
"Come, have a seat," Dumbledore encouraged, waving his hand toward a plush armchair in front of a polished mahogany table. The Headmaster took the seat nearest the fire and beamed at Harry.
Different plates of food covered the table. Harry noticed a few of his favorite dishes among the choices. He took a seat and placed the soft, silky napkin in his lap. Dumbledore smiled at him and gestured for him to begin. "I have never stood on too much ceremony and we have much to discuss," the Headmaster said and started to ladle sliced turnips onto his plate.
Harry and Dumbledore ate in silence for a time. The sound of quiet chewing filled the office, only broken by the occasional snore from the portraits around the office. After they both finished eating, Dumbledore asked if Harry wanted dessert.
"No thank you, sir," Harry answered, his stomach already pressing against the small belt around his trousers.
"Then, I believe we are done," the Headmaster said and waved his wand. The food disappeared but the pitcher of iced juice and goblets remained on the table. "To wet our throats if needed," he explained with a smile. "Now, I suppose you are wondering why I called you here tonight."
"Something like that, yes, Professor," Harry admitted with a small smile. While the food had been good, the awkward silence that stretched between them made the dinner uncomfortable.
"I will jump right into it then," Dumbledore said and stood. He paced in front of the fire for a moment before turning to look at Harry. "I was going to contact you yesterday when Professor Lupin told me of your struggles. The Patronus Charm is a difficult spell for anyone, however, I think you could already cast a corporeal Patronus if you had the right motivation. Tell me, Harry, what did you think of when you cast the charm?"
"I thought of the incantation, made sure to hold the happy memory in my mind, and made sure to focus my will on protecting," Harry answered with a frown. "It still comes out as a silvery mist; sometimes it is sharp, clear, and defined."
"Tell me, when you focused on protecting, what were you thinking?" the Headmaster questioned with a penetrating stare.
"I was thinking of protecting myself from the evilness of the Dementors."
"Ah, there may be your problem. You are forgetting that Dementors are created. It is not in their nature to see good, nor evil. For them, they simply exist to steal energy from living beings. The stronger, the happier, the living being the more sustenance they provide," Dumbledore said in a soft voice.
"Evil," Harry remarked with a nod.
"Your encounters with the Dementors have given you a harsh, if accurate, assessment of Dementors but, when you cast the charm, you are letting your beliefs, your bias, influence your will. By seeing them as evil, not something to be pitied, you inject your emotion into the charm; breaking the last and crucial part of the charm. You see, the Patronus Charm is about protecting yourself and others as well as protecting the Dementors. The magic released allows them to feel your conviction. Your conviction to protect and your conviction to believe they are what they are. It drives them away. Take Buckbeak for example," Dumbledore said with a nod. "He holds to the old ways of his species. It is different than ours. The Hippogriffs have limited communication yet they can understand human behaviors and actions. Buckbeak would not have attacked young Malfoy if he believed what Draco had done was out of ignorance. Buckbeak attacked him because he sensed malicious intent."
"And now he will be put to death for it," Harry spat.
"Unfortunately, yes," Dumbledore said in a low voice, the last word barely above a whisper. "Before we touch on that subject, I wish to talk to you about two more things. First, think on what I have said. Dementors are created and born of festering, dark magic. I will not go into the process, for it is too dark to speak about in civilized company, but it is ritualistic in nature. The Dementors do not understand, nor can they comprehend human emotion. Second, I think it is time you focused your attention on finding your center. I know Seitaro Ogata spoke to you about finding your center and it is an integral part of learning Occlumancy, however, I do not want you to focus on the magical aspect of Occlumancy without a teacher. Unfortunately, as much as I wish to guide you, I cannot. As you might be aware, my attention is in several places at once," he said with a small laugh.
"I don't know how you do it," Harry stated after a moment. "I don't think I could juggle as much responsibility as you do."
"You will learn, in time," Dumbledore said in an uncharacteristically heavy tone. "If you continue on the path you are, you will not have a choice. Life and the wizarding world will foist responsibility on you like a cloak. It will give you both protection and weigh you down. This is not a bad thing, so do not feel discouraged. It is time I spoke about Sirius Black," he said, the smile fading from his face. "Harry, I will not be able to shield Black as I did you against the Ministry's wrath. My testimony from twelve years ago will be thrown in my face, with good reason. The Minister of Magic has done everything in his power to limit and restrict my authority within the British Ministry of Magic. I am telling you now that Black may be executed."
Silence hung in the air as Harry digested the Headmaster's words. "I think I knew that already. So does Sirius," he said after a moment. He didn't want to reveal that he'd met Sirius in Hogsmede.
"I heard your conversation with Sirius in the Shrieking Shack," Dumbledore said and looked over his glasses at Harry. "He was not lying. You are his primary concern. He knowingly gives up everything for you, even his life. I've had a similar conversation with him... and Madam Bones. They both know what is at stake but still want to pit themselves against the might of the Ministry. Each has their reasons to do so, but both are resolute in their decision. I tell you this so you understand to trust Madam Bones and her skilled team. In a few week's time, Sirius and Peter Pettigrew will be taken away by a small contingent of Aurors."
Harry nodded, wondering where the Headmaster was going with his narration. "We don't have a choice but to trust Madam Bones," he said when the silence stretched on.
Ignoring Harry's sarcasm, Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry. He finally said, "I would like you to spend time with Sirius Black. You will have a watcher of sorts, more for Madam Bones' piece of mind than any danger you will be in. When he leaves here, his life will be in the hands of others and I know he would enjoy your company. Would you be willing to see him?"
The Headmaster's soft voice echoed around the room. Harry noted the sudden silence of everything around him as he pondered what Dumbledore was telling him. "You believe... you believe he will die then?" he guessed after a moment.
"It is my dearest wish for Black to be found innocent and released. He was wrongfully imprisoned in the first place. However," the Headmaster said, his voice trailing off. "However, sometimes the world is unfair and the innocent are martyred."
Harry blinked as he mulled over Dumbledore's words. "Martyred," he muttered. "If Black is executed, then you believe Fudge will be done for?" he questioned.
"Of that, I know for sure," Dumbledore answered in a soft voice. "Fudge is an unknowing pawn for two factions within the Ministry. If one side or the other decides to throw him away," he said, trailing off with a sad look. "Cornelius is a good politician but trusts his advisors a little too much. As a leader, we must trust but verify. If Black is executed, then certain things will come to light. Pettigrew's use of the Killing Curse, aimed at you and young Ronald Weasley, is hard evidence of his guilt. Among other... disturbing... facts the Veritaserum revealed. If Madam Bones can get both of them to the Ministry without issue, Black may yet live."
"You still want me to talk to Sirius then?" Harry asked with a frown. "I don't see why not. I know he didn't like wherever you have him much."
"It is far better than in the embrace of a Dementor," Dumbledore responded, his voice pitched low. "He knows that."
"I suppose you're right," Harry replied with a shudder. The familiar, uncomfortable cold feeling washed over his body. "You mentioned Buckbeak?" he asked after a moment.
"Yes, for that, I am asking you to not go to the execution. For many reasons but the primary one is your mental health. Harry, you have seen and done things in your short life that no one, wizard or Muggle, should have to deal with. The fresh mental wounds the Boggart, transformed into a Dementor, was not lost on Professor Lupin or... I suspect, yourself. How are your nightmares, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, his expression softening.
Harry grunted and shook his head. "About the same as usual," he lied.
"You forget I have that rather ingenious map your father and his friends made. I do plan on returning it to you, but not yet. I have little need for the map but it does serve as a reminder that I am not all-powerful and cannot see everything that goes on within these walls. Until Black and Pettigrew are gone, I will continue to monitor the school."
"You think someone might try to get in? To silence them?" Harry questioned after a moment. He remembered reading books about fantasy kings and queens silencing their opponents before trials to ensure they escaped punishment.
"Or, if one or the other decides to go out for a stroll," the Headmaster remarked with a wry smile.
Harry winced and nodded. "I'm struggling with the meditation techniques," he admitted after a moment of silence.
"Professor Lupin mentioned that," Dumbledore said and produced a rounded stone from the pocket of his purple robes. "Focus on this as you meditate. It may help center your mind," he suggested as he passed the smooth stone over to Harry. The runic marking around the stone made him think of the one Master Ogata gave him. "It says... peace and courage to... or maybe partnered," he muttered as he tried to decipher the faded script. "Peace and courage while you partner with wisdom," he finished with a raised eyebrow. "It could also mean 'peace and courage to those who seek wisdom' however," he continued, looking up at the Headmaster.
"I used this stone when I was a little older than you are now. It helped me understand and build the foundation of who I am today," Dumbledore admitted with a small smile. "Speaking of foundations. Could I ask you a few questions about what you've learned this term?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Harry answered the Headmaster's questions as best he could. On several occasions, Dumbledore stopped him midway through his answer to correct or challenge his understanding of the topic. Harry wanted to conjure a quill and parchment so he could take notes to share with Hermione later. Dumbledore seemed satisfied when he released Harry for the night.
The next day, Professor Lupin led Harry through the dungeons toward Sirius' rooms. Behind two locked doors and a hidden wall that Harry was sure wasn't there before, the professor stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall in the middle of a dimly lit corridor. "Aurors guard the next chamber. Be mindful of where you are," Lupin said in a soft voice as he tapped on the wall with his wand. The stone melted away to form an arch.
The brightly lit opening blinded Harry. He squinted his eyes and realized the archway expanded halfway down the corridor on both sides. Two familiar faces, wands pointed at them, peered down the narrow corridor. "Wotcher Harry," Tonks called before stowing her wand and disappearing from sight.
Kingsley took a little longer to put away his wand, his eyes darting from Professor Lupin to Harry. "Come in," he called before stepping back.
Harry followed the professor into the room and blinked when he realized the angled walls on either side of him made a funnel. It would force any attackers through a narrow chokepoint. Low walls that came up to Harry's knee were scattered all over the front half of the room while tall, wide pillars gave the Aurors protection from spells should they need it. He blinked and looked around at the way the light of the room seemed to focus on the entrance.
"Impressed?" Tonks asked with a smirk. "Came up with some of it myself. Kingsley, the old grouch, wanted to use this as practice for when we're holding a key location down," she said and sat in her chair by one of the two solid wooden doors.
"You're here to see Black," Kingsley said in his deep voice. "I'm not sure that is wise," he remarked with a hard look at Harry.
"Why?" Harry questioned with a frown.
"While I trust Madam Bones, I do not trust many within the Ministry. I am afraid of you getting too attached to Black," the dark-skinned Auror stated in a flat voice. "You have cause enough to hate the Ministry. I for one, do not wish to further increase the likelihood you will cross wands with the Ministry one day."
"So I shouldn't get to know Sirius because he's going to die?" Harry asked with a frown.
"Better to have a passing acquaintance pass on unjustly than a close friend," Kingsley comment with a hard look at the professor. "You gave Black every chance to escape but he'd decided to wager his life against the mercy of the Ministry."
"Dumbledore wants me to just talk with him," Harry said slowly. He frowned, looking at the Auror he had mixed feelings about. While he respected Kingsley, he also didn't like being around him.
"It is the only thing stopping me from stunning you right now," Kingsley said in a low voice. "I do not approve of you talking with a criminal, nor do I think it wise. This could be used against Black in his trial."
"Then have Tonks come in with me," Harry said with a shrug.
"She Black's cousin and wouldn't be here if we weren't short-staffed. A lot of major and minor projects must be completed before the start of summer. The Quidditch World Cup for example. That fiasco has taken almost half of our skilled Aurors away."
Harry grimaced and looked at Professor Lupin. "Why don't you go in with Harry then, Kingsley," the professor said in a soft voice. "As an Auror, no one will question your word." Harry wanted to protest and leave right then, Dumbledore's wants be damned.
Kingsley pursed his lips and looked at Harry. "How long will you speak to Black?" he questioned.
Harry shrugged and looked at Professor Lupin. "Around thirty minutes," the professor supplied with a knowing grin.
"Follow me," Kingsley ordered and moved toward the heavy door on the left.
Sirius' rooms, as he called it, was the chamber Professor McGonagall transfigured the chessmen in for the test to protect the Philosopher's Stone. Seven partitioned areas stood on the chessboard platform. Harry made note of where they entered and couldn't see the door behind him. He looked up to where he knew the drain was but couldn't see it. Kingsley led him along the raised, narrow stone walkway around Sirius' 'rooms'. Harry could see every corner of the partitions as they moved toward the stone stairs. He wondered how Sirius dealt with knowing someone was watching you while you bathed.
"Harry?" Black questioned as he looked up from a tower of cards. "By Merlin, why are you here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Kingsley. The main partitioned room had three chairs, a table, and a plush couch, nothing more. The plain, dark grey walls stretched just above Kingsley's head.
Harry thought there was some anger in Sirius' expression. "Dumbledore," he answered after a moment.
"Ah, come to see me off have you?" Sirius joked with a lopsided grin. "Sit, sit," he said, his grin stretching wider. "If you're here then we can talk. The Aurors, blasted Moody in particular, don't appreciate my jokes. Maybe you will. Tell me, if a child refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?" he questioned with a serious expression.
Harry blinked as his mind tried to work out what Sirius said. "That... was... yeah, no, that was terrible," he said after a moment, his face scrunched up.
"Ah, the subtle, fatherly joke is lost on you. Maybe when you're older," Sirius said with a bemused expression. "At least you haven't grown up too fast. Have a seat, I promise not to bore you to tears," he said when he noticed Harry still standing. Once Harry sat down in the chair opposite him he looked him over. "Your eyes don't have as many bags under them. How are you?" he asked in a soft voice, almost above a whisper.
"Better than you," Harry answered with a smirk. "At least you don't look like a corpse warmed over anymore."
Black laughed and grinned. "Too much longer and I would have looked like the guards of that damnable place. You surprised me that night at the Burrow, I think it was called," he said as he eyed Harry. "You don't look as strong as you are."
"Courtesy of my time in Instructor Elliot's care," Harry answered with a mocking, sitting bow. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I miss some of those exercises he ran us through."
"Like what?" Sirius questioned, his eyebrows rising. "I haven't heard much about what happened to you after... well after that night. No one will tell me."
Harry grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. "It wasn't pleasant but it wasn't bad either at the Dursleys," he answered after a moment. "Aunt Petunia and Vernon... well one night things got a little out of hand. I had a magical... outburst and found myself in the street in front of the police station. Well... things went... sideways from there," he said as his mouth twisted into what he hoped was a grin.
Sirius froze, the jovial expression on his face slipping. "I had no idea," he muttered. "If you don't want to, I won't press for more. Everyone has their past and I for one, am glad you are here now."
Harry looked at Kingsley who hovered near the stairs, looking uninterested. "I don't think now is a good time," Harry said in a low voice.
"Then let us talk about your magical studies. Your mum was right mental when it came to her schoolwork," Sirius said, his voice lifting again.
"It's coming along. I'm struggling to produce a corporeal Patronus but Professors Dumbledore and Lupin say I'll get it at some time or another in the future," Harry admitted.
"Describe to me in detail the process you follow and the memory you use. I may be of some help," Black said with a wry smile. "I didn't survive Azkaban through sheer will alone."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he clenched his fists in his lap under the table.
"Harry, your Patronus is the manifestation of your willpower, understanding, and compassion. I am innocent so the Dementors couldn't burrow their way into my mind and rob me of my magic completely. Everyone's Patronus is uniquely individual to them and it can change. From your nod, you know this. However, do you know you can summon your Patronus without a wand and without releasing the charm out of your body?"
"What?" Harry questioned, his eyes wide.
"Azkaban is a... unique experience, as you know. I have always been adept at adapting and changing to fit my environment. You have to know the crowd if you want them to laugh at your jokes," Sirius said with a wry grin. "Anyway, it didn't take me long to realize I would die in Azkaban. At least if they decide to execute me it will be mostly quick," he said with a smile. "It didn't take me long to realize I still had my magic. Limited, barely enough to light a wand tip, but it gave me hope. My Patronus is me just as your Patronus, whatever it will be, is you. It doesn't just appear out of thin air when you cast the charm. The Patronus Charm calls your willpower, conviction, and feeling into being through magic. I was able to hold my sanity because of this. I knew I was innocent, however, I knew I was fated to die because I failed my best mate. James... he kept me alive through my darkest times and I failed him."
Harry mulled over what Sirius told him. "There were two instances of the Patronus Charm being linked to a witch's Animagus form. In one case, she turned into an owl and her Patronus was an owl. Does that mean your Patronus is a large black dog?" Harry questioned, his eyes narrowing.
"Snuffles," Sirius answered with a smile. "Your father gave me the name Snuffles when I was in my dog form. I got into a pepper pot when I was trying out my Animagus form for the first time. The name stuck when I kept sneezing for a day afterward. He always said I was a better dog than a wizard."
Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "So my Patronus would be whatever form I would take if I became an Animagus, interesting," he muttered. "Did you know you would become a dog? Before you changed for the first time?"
"Yes," Sirius said with a smirk. "Deep within the library, in the Transfiguration section, there is a book called 'Find Your True Nature: A Guide to Understanding Yourself'. James gave it to me as a joke when I complained about being bored. He lived in the Transfiguration stacks of the library so he knew every book there. Between you and me, I think he might have loved those books a little too much," he joked with an exaggerated wink. When Harry didn't smile, Sirius sighed. "Too young, o well, maybe when you're older."
"No, I understood what you meant," Harry said with a snort. "It just wasn't funny. So you got the book and read it?"
"Nothing else to do," Sirius answered with a shrug. "I'd finished my Charms assignment... Peter, Merlin burn his soul to ash, struggled with Potions, and Remus tried to tutor him. James was trying to look handsome and smart by preening in front of a bunch of witches. I tell you, if he hadn't fallen head over heels for Lily, your father would have had several children."
"That... is something I don't need to know," Harry muttered and shuddered. "What did the book say?" he asked, hoping Sirius would take the hint and drop the subject of his father.
"Meditation was the key, or so the author believed. I thought looking in a mirror worked better. You know, staring at my handsome appearance and seeing a great shaggy dog looking back at me," Sirius joked. "The meditation worked alright. Peter, trying to imitate me, figured out he would be a rat. Muggles call it your Spirit Animal. I've always had an affinity for dogs. They are loyal, just, and loveable to a fault."
"Interesting," Harry muttered, wondering if the book might help him. He knew what a Spirit Animal was. Plenty of the other cadets claimed their spirit animals were wolves, tigers, gorillas, or other strong animals. He'd joked once that his would be a honey badger because he just kept swinging long after he realized he'd lost the fight.
"Now, go over your process. Let's see if ol'Godfather Sirius can help," the convict said with a winning, fatherly smile.
Harry shuddered.