2/24/20-8/20/20
Harry and Neville were at the park and on the swings.
"I can't believe the minister isn't believing you. Does he want another and most likely worse war now that we're either at or done with school?" Harry said.
"I think he's too scared to believe me. He may have rejected it every time but Dumbledore would be a better minister." Neville said.
Harry nodded.
"But he likes being headmaster more. He calls Hogwarts his home."
They sat there quietly. Then he looked at him.
"I can here you screaming at night. About what happened last year."
"Sorry. I didn't know I was doing it."
"You know you can always come to me, right?"
"I know. And you can always come to me."
He smiled and nodded. "I know. We're fifteen and are still inseparable. Like Fred and George only not twins."
They started laughing when it started to get dark and colder.
They looked at each other and stood up. Then looked around.
"You don't think it's a dementor do you?" Neville asked.
"I don't know, we better get home quickly though." Harry said.
Neville nodded and then felt rain so they started to run. When they got to an alleyway they stopped and looked around again.
There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. They felt a horrible jolt of dread as they stood trembling in the freezing air.
Harry thought about something.
'If it's what I think it is then I'm in trouble. Neville can't make one.'
While they looked around Harry slipped on the wet ground.
"Ooff!" he said and his wand fell out of his hand.
"Oh shoot!"
While he was on the ground they felt a creeping chill behind them that could mean only one thing. There was more than one.
"Wand!" Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders.
"Where's - wand -come on -lumos!" he said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help him in his search - and to his disbelieving relief, light flared inches from his right hand - the wand tip had ignited.
Neville looked at him in shock.
Harry snatched it up, scrambled to his feet and turned around. A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards them, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.
Stumbling backwards, Harry raised his wand.
"Expecto patronum!"
A silvery wisp of vapor shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; tripping over his own feet, Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore down upon him, panic fogging his brain -concentrate– A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor's robes, reaching for him.
"Come on Harry! You can make a strong patronus! Stronger than mine!" Tracey said.
"Expecto patronum!"
His voice sounded dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke, feebler than the last, drifted from the wand - he couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't work the spell.
There was laughter inside his own head, shrill, high-pitched laughter… he could smell the Dementors putrid, death-cold breath filling his own lungs, drowning him - think… something happy…
But there was no happiness in him… the Dementors icy fingers were closing on his throat.
He was never going to see Ron and Hermione again, Sirius, Remus, Neville, his parents– And their faces burst clearly into his mind as he fought for breath.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
An enormous silver stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand; its antlers caught the Dementor in the place where the heart should have been; it was thrown backwards, weightless as darkness, and as the stag charged, the Dementor swooped away, bat-like and defeated.
"THIS WAY!" Harry shouted at the stag.
Wheeling around, he sprinted down the alleyway, holding the lit wand aloft.
"NEVILLE? NEVILLE!" he said.
He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them: Neville was trying to cover his face to give Harry more time.
A second Dementor was crouching low over her, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prizing them slowly almost lovingly apart, lowering its hooded head towards Tracey's face.
"GET IT!" Harry bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound, the silver stag he had conjured came galloping past him.
The Dementors eyeless face was barely an inch from Tracey's when the silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness; the stag cantered to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into silver mist.
Harry headed to over to her and bent down to see whether she was OK.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, you?" he asked while he sat up.
"Yeah. Where did they come from?"
"I don't know, but we better get home before mum and dad have a heart attack and have everybody look for us."
Harry nodded and helped him up.
Then they headed home.