CHAPTER SIX
Homecoming
Life at Brightstone House had grown tense since the Lethifold incident, as Flamel wished to discuss the event and Harry chose to pretend that it had never happened. Logically, he was more than aware that this was not the correct way he should be dealing with the ramifications of such a traumatic event, but anything else was out of the question as far as he was concerned.
His lacklustre performance against the Lethifold felt like a mark against his pride, as not only had he failed to save himself, but he had needed Flamel had to come and rescue him. Harry might have been able to stomach it if his master had struggled a bit against the Dark Beast, but he had dealt with it with a single spell, treating it as casually as he would a naughty Bowtruckle.
Flamel had already pitied him before, but now he must think Harry was simply pathetic.
Perhaps it was more than a little high-minded of him, to expect to be able to deal with a Class XXXXX Beast on his own and with just a few weeks of intensive training underneath his belt, but he couldn't help it. He had set such high goals for himself that any sign of his own ineptitude was enough to strike him right at the core of his being.
The worst part was knowing that he would have been reduced to the whimpering child he really was if Eos was not keeping watch over him every night.
Not knowing how to deal with this intense feeling of failure, Harry threw himself back into his training with renewed focus, hoping enough hard work would be able to make up the difference for his own short comings. Flamel, finally seeming to understand that the only way Harry would accept his presence if it related some way back into his training, became a familiar fixture in Harry's peripheral. He offered advice and tips without being prompted, and Harry accepted them all, hungrily.
Every day he followed Flamel's guidance with strict diligence, and slowly began to see improvement in his overall speed, stamina, dexterity and power. A summer neared its end, he resented having to return back to Hogwarts, as he had seen how much improvement intensive training could bring in just two months.
However, he knew that Hogwarts was the only path forward to save his parents, as duelling alone would not give him the knowledge he needed in freeing them from their respective prisons. He needed to become a Sage as quickly as possible, and with every teacher being a Master in their respective fields, as well as having one of the largest magical libraries in the world, Hogwarts was his best bet.
He was under a time limit after all.
When he had finally come clean with Flamel back in July, telling him of the events of his First Year as well as Voldemort's claim that his parents only had until his eighteenth birthday before the protections fell, he had confirmed that it was true.
"Few kinds of magic are as powerful as the protective kind that parent's place upon their children." Flamel had explained to him one day in July, as they had sat underneath a tree, hiding from the scorching midday sun. "But, like all magic, it has its downsides. The younger the child is, the more powerful the protection. But as the child grows and gains increasing independence, the magic weakens. As the child grows into a young adult, capable of independent thought and increasingly responsible over their own protection it becomes almost useless."
"Voldemort said I only have until my eighteenth birthday."
"Protections of the kind that your parents utilised are extraordinarily rare, so much so that I'm surprised that anyone could have discovered any texts that teach it, even in the Magisterium." Flamel sounded impressed and he quickly let Harry know why. "What is so unique is the way they used it. To repurpose such a potent branch of the Dark Arts and to combine it with parental protective magic? It is a wonder that Voldemort is alive at all after attacking you."
In that moment Harry had felt as though his chest might just burst out of pride for his parents, but looking back at it now, he just felt annoyed. Why couldn't they have used their brilliance to figure out a way in which they could all survive? Now, that impossible task rested on Harry's shoulders, and even though he would never admit it out loud, deep down he doubted he was capable of ever pulling it off, even without a time limit.
Harry's training and rumination on his parent's fates was put on hold every Friday morning, as Flamel began a new weekly ritual, and it was one that Harry couldn't say no to, not that he would even want to.
"You want me to chase you?" Harry asked, pretending to be bewildered.
"Yes." Flamel nodded.
"You want me to chase you through the forest like you're a fox I'm hunting?"
"Yes!" He was beginning to sound exasperated with him. "Why is that so hard for you to understand?"
"Oh, it isn't hard to understand at all. I just wanted you to realise how stupid you sound."
Flamel narrowed his eyes at him but, like always, chose to overlook Harry continuing disrespect. "You have one hour. If you can land a single spell on me, I will let you choose one thing for me to teach you before summer's end."
Harry perked up. Not only did the exercise itself sound interesting, but the prize was something that was actually something useful instead of the trinkets that teachers at St. Greggs had used to bribe students with. Harry even had a particular spell in mind, but Nicolas had refused to even point him in the right direction during his studying time in the library, claiming that he would help only when Harry spoke about the Lethifold attack.
Harry had refused. But now Flamel had presented him with an opportunity to learn that spell anyway.
The hunt that took place on the first Friday of August had ended with a humiliated defeat. When Flamel had run into the forest with speed that Harry's shorter legs just couldn't match, he resorted to using tricks instead. Summoning his Invisibility Cloak, Harry had tried to use the Tracking Spell on Flamel, but when that failed, he simply waited by the forest opening closest to Brightstone House.
After about ten minutes, Harry noticed that the weather had slowly changed from bright and sunny, to cool and overcast. A fog rolled in, and Harry drew his Cloak tighter around himself, wishing that he was wearing something more substantial than the thin t-shirt that he trained in.
He was so distracted by the change in weather, that he didn't even notice the Stunning Spell that hit him squarely in the back.
"I thought I was the one hunting you." Harry complained as soon as he had been revived and understood what had happened. "You cheated!"
"You did first." Flamel indicated the Cloak that was still secured around Harry's shoulders. "Besides, a hunter needs to be more aware of his surroundings than that, otherwise how would he catch anything at all?"
"How did you even see me? Was it the fog?"
"No, that was just something to distract you as I went around you." Flamel smiled. "Your Cloak is incredible, but it is not infallible. Sages are capable of seeing with more than just their eyes. It's better you learn that now."
Harry frowned. "I don't understand."
"I wouldn't expect you to."
The second Friday of the month, Harry had resolved himself into doing this the hard way. When Flamel gave the signal to begin, Harry took off after him in a dead sprint, shooting spells at his back as he went, but his quarry was a wily one. From the way he dodged each of Harry spells, he knew that Flamel could only react in such a way if he had eyes on the back of his head.
"You can see spells coming, can't you?" Harry asked through deep breaths, as the second Friday's hunt ended with another failure. Even with all the Healer-Assisted training he had put in, he still found it excruciating to keep up with Flamel, but then again what did he expect? This was a man who had trained for centuries, of course Harry wouldn't be able to keep up with him after a few measly weeks.
"Yes, I can." Flamel was grinning. "How will you adjust your strategy with that knowledge?" His tone was mocking, but Harry knew that he was laying down a challenge, one that Harry was eager to accept.
By the time the third Friday rolled around, Harry had accepted that he only had one avenue of attack open to him and Flamel must have known that too. So, Harry had to hide his real attack under a layer or two in order to keep Flamel distracted.
When Flamel gave the signal, Harry darted after him as quickly as he could. For his plan to work, Harry knew that he had to keep his quarry within his sight, because if he even left Flamel out of his field of view for even an instant, he would try some kind of trickery to match Harry's own.
Ducking under branches, zigzagging between trees, and jumping over roots, Harry was keeping up with his master only because he was running at full pelt, with an inadvisable lack of caution. Harry began his plan with a few of the Basic Seven.
"Stupefy! Impedimenta!" He made sure to keep his voice down, as though he were trying to hide his spell choice from Flamel, whereas in reality, he didn't care if he was aware of those first two spells as long as he missed the third.
"Oppugno!"
The tree branches that he had animated last night came to life as they attacked Flamel from all sides as he ran, but the Alchemist must have sensed their activation and the command to attack, because he dodged each blow magnificently. With a laugh, he glanced back over his shoulder at Harry as he jumped over a branch that tried to sweep his legs out from under him.
"HA! Is that really the best you can do?!"
Harry hid his smile behind a growl as his real attack now swooped in from above.
The trees weren't the only things that Harry had spent last night animating, as he had transfigured and then disillusioned a flock of birds, and when he had cast the Attacking Charm, they too were also activated. Flamel might be able to sense spells, but what could he do when Harry had used one spell for two different attacks?
Apparently, quite a lot.
Just as he was done quipping at Harry, Flamel froze for a moment and looked upwards and Harry narrowed his eyes in response. Somehow, Flamel was able to see Harry's disillusioned birds when even he, the caster, could not. Before he could think on how he could adjust to this new bit of intelligence, Flamel was already acting.
Whipping his wand over his head, Flamel summoned a lasso of white flames and with a two-handed expanding gesture, the lasso shot out in all directions, reducing the invisible birds to ash. The flames did not stop there, and Harry flinched when they headed right for him, but he needn't have worried. The flames left him, and the surrounding forest untouched. Somehow, that Elemental Spell was able to identify exactly what was attacking its caster, leaving everything else untouched.
Harry was so distracted by this new fascinating piece of magic, that he didn't notice Flamel pulling back a branch in the direction that Harry was still running in.
"You could have taken my eye out!" Harry snapped at him when he had regained consciousness. "What were you thinking? Did you forget how to cast a Stunning Spell?"
"I have already apologised!" Flamel protested as he was now healing the bump forming on Harry's forehead after ensuring that he didn't have a concussion. "I honestly expected you to dodge that. I don't know why you were so distracted."
Harry suddenly remembered. "That spell you used on the birds. What was it?"
Flamel's eyebrows rose. "Birds? Is that what those things were?"
Harry was tempted to ask just how far his ability to see spells went, as he could see something attacking him from above but could not make out their obvious shape, but he remained focused on his first question. "The spell?" He prompted.
Flamel smiled innocently. "Would you like to know this spell or the one I used against the Lethifold?"
Harry raised his eyebrows, not expecting him to be so acquiescing. "I thought I had to hit you with a spell before I could earn it."
Flamel chuckled. "I was just pulling your leg. As you are now, there is no conceivable way for you to capture me." Before Harry could snap at him again, he hastily continued. "What you did today is as close as you're going to get. So, which spell do you want to learn?"
It wasn't much of a choice. As much as Harry would like to have that white flame spell in his arsenal, he first needed to ensure that nothing like the Lethifold attack ever happened again. He hated feeling so weak. "The spell you used against the Lethifold." He demanded.
Flamel had asked him to summon his grimoire, and when it flew from his bedroom and landed in his hands, Harry passed it along to him. Flamel flicked to a certain page and tapped it with his wand before handing it back to Harry, and without another word, he turned and strolled back to the house, whistling all the while.
Harry stared after him for a moment, before looking down at his open grimoire. There, on a previously blank page, was the description, casting instructions, and animated illustration of the spell he had been yearning after for weeks. It read:
In this world, there are many creatures that lurk in the shadows, feeding off the positive emotions that humanity experience every day, the sensations that make us human. In order to counter this, wizardkind has invented the Patronus Charm.
This charm is so ancient that it remains unknown who exactly invented it, only that its first recorded use was in Ancient Greece, during one of the many battles between Andros the Invincible and his foe, Herpo the Foul.
The Patronus Charm frees a mysterious guardian, one that lurks within every witch and wizard, and is the culmination of all the positive feelings an individual can bring to bear. As such, intense determination, emotional control and, of course, power are necessary in casting even a non-corporeal Patronus.
For the few who are able to cast a corporeal Patronus, they find that it takes the shape of the animal for which they hold the deepest affinity. Few, however, are able to guess just what animal best represents them.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
One the last Friday of the month, Harry prepared himself for another hunt, hoping to get Flamel to actually teach him the Patronus Charm this time around, but he found that he apparently had other plans for the day.
"You have other plans for the day." Flamel informed him over breakfast.
Harry made a face at him. "I do? That's news to me."
Flamel indicated the small pile of letters that were on the table, which Harry had pretended not to notice as he entered the kitchen. "I thought it was strange that you hadn't gone school shopping yet, but I assumed that Albus was merely finding trouble recruiting a brand-new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Imagine my surprise when I found all this unopened correspondence in your room."
Harry frowned at him. "You searched my room?"
Flamel sounded defensive as he quickly responded. "It is my house, so can search whatever I like!" Harry glared at him but said nothing. He kind of had a point there. "Why haven't you gone shopping yet?" His tone was softer now, clearly doing Harry a favour by not asking why he had ignored all the letters from his friends from school.
Harry shrugged. "I want to avoid the rush. I'll go on the last day, right before school starts." He paused for a moment before amending, "I might even skip the train all together and go shopping on September First." He noticed Flamel had a serious expression on his face, the one he wore when he was about to lay down the law but harry cut him off. "You wanted me to go back to Hogwarts? Fine. But I'll do it my own way." He glared at him for a few more moments, until Flamel sighed and held his mug out for the Automaton.
"I need more coffee." And that was how Harry knew he had won this round.
Bright and early on September First, while his peers were busy boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry used the Floo network to reach the Leaky Cauldron, and through it, Diagon Alley. As he walked through the tavern and paid for his Floo use at the bar, he caught a few people eyeing him strangely, and he knew why. It wasn't just Hogwarts that began of the first day of September, but all the magical British Schools, so either Harry was late, or he was one of the few home-schooled kids.
But if he's home schooled, where are his parents? He could hear them thinking. If any of them were brave enough to ask, he would tell them, as bluntly as possible, that his parents were dead. That should stop any further questioning.
None of the early day drinkers actually asked, but he kept it in mind for the Alley itself.
Harry tapped the pattern of bricks just like Hagrid had shown him so long ago and waited impatiently for the bricks to transform themselves into an archway to Diagon Alley. A year ago, he had been impressed by that alone, but now he had didn't even blink. He had seen far more impressive magic since then.
Harry headed right for Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions as, aside from a single textbook, new stationery and a refill of his potions kit, a new set of robes was all he needed. Entering the shop, he was pleased to find it empty aside from an elderly witch who was perusing the offered fabrics, which was a stark difference from the madhouse that he had stepped into last summer.
When the door let off its ringing sound, Madam Malkin herself stepped out of the backroom and smiled when she saw him. "Harry Potter! So happy to see you again." The shop owner hurried forwards, greeting him like they were old friends. "I expected to see you sooner, but when you never arrived, I began to think that you might have gone to another tailor, like Twilfitt and Tattings!" Despite the rest of the shop being available, she began to shepherd him towards the backroom. "I wouldn't recommend them, Harry. Their work is subpar."
Harry's attention was diverted from Malkin's badmouthing of her tailoring compatriots, as he noticed the elderly woman had paused her perusing of the fabrics when his name had been called out. Strangers reacting to his presence was nothing unusual, but unlike most people she remained where she was, continuing her shopping as though she hadn't heard a thing.
As he passed her on his way to the backroom, Harry noticed that she avoided eye contact with him as passed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had met her somewhere before. However, as he entered the backroom and nothing came to him, he just brushed it off. It was his first time in public since the Lethifold attack, so of course he would be feeling paranoid. Every time that he had come out of hiding this summer he had been attacked, being suspicious of strangers was only natural.
Despite this, Harry silently chastised himself for his rising paranoia. An old lady doesn't jump for joy at being in the Boy-Who-Lived's presence and suddenly she's a possible enemy? I need to get over myself.
Harry spent nearly half an hour in Madam Malkin's, and not because the fitting took that long, but because Malkin kept trying to sell him things that he didn't need. Most of the Muggle clothes that he had purchased last summer were baggy enough to still fit him now, as he had only grown a couple of inches over the last year. He would simply visit Gladrags in Hogsmeade if he needed anything else during the year.
Almost shamefully, Harry reached in his Mokeskin Pouch and removed Flamel's Gringotts key. His master had insisted on paying for his apprentice, as in his mind, Harry was now his ward. He tried to convince himself that it was the same as using the money he had inherited from his parents, as they were even greater strangers to him than Flamel was, but for some reason this didn't ring true in his mind. Anyway, it wasn't like he had a choice. Flamel had threatened to return anything that he had bought with his parent's money and purchase it all over again with his own.
Harry didn't want to test him on that, as he was just eccentric enough to do so.
"Save your inheritance for when you are an adult." Flamel instructed, before reassuring him. "There's no limit to how much you can spend." He said this while waving his key in the air. Harry had been forced into teaching himself the value of money as a child, so this offer did little to impress him. Still, he took it anyway if only to shut Flamel up.
Making a very quick stop at Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, Harry handed over his potion's kit and asked for the Hogwarts' Second Year ingredients as listed in his letter. As soon as he had paid, Harry snatched up his kit and dipped out of the shop as quickly as he could without outright running. It was only when he was several shops down, did he finally feel comfortable in breathing normally again.
He had been so focused on learning how to duel that he had forgotten about the first spell he had ever wished to learn. Harry promised himself that he would have mastered the Clean Fragrance Charm before he returned next year, as his weak stomach couldn't handle going into apothecaries without it.
After stopping at Scribbulus' Writing Instruments, where he picked up another writing kit and enough parchment to last him at least until Halloween, Harry made his way to Flourish and Blotts in order to purchase up this year's required Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. However, when he entered the shop and quickly located the correct aisle, he came across another Hogwarts student, one that he recognised.
For a brief moment, Harry and Susan stared at each other, as they were both clearly surprised that someone else had the same idea of completing their school shopping on the first day of term. While Harry hesitated, as he wasn't sure if he wanted to acknowledge her presence at all, Susan's expression rapidly smoothed out and she spoke first.
"Don't you know what today is, Potter?" She asked airily. "Or have the teachers finally realised you're not worth teaching at all?"
Harry rolled his eyes, not in the mood to deal with her brand of nonsense. "You're not on the Hogwarts Express either, Susie." He withheld a smirk when he noticed her fist clench at his overly familiar use of her first name. "What makes you think you won't get in trouble either?"
"My father is good friends with Professor Sprout. That gives me certain leeway." She said this as though it were something to be proud of.
Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly at the mention of her father. "Listen Bones, I'm sorry for what I said about your family. I didn't actually know anything about them when I said that."
Susan stared at him as though he had just slapped her. "What?"
"Before Christmas, one day after Potions Club." He clarified which incident he was speaking of, just in case she had forgotten. "You were going after Michael, so I just said something vague about your background to make you focus on me. I honestly didn't know anything about what had happened to your family before then. So, I'm sorry."
Susan stepped forward so quickly that Harry had to force himself not to skitter backwards. He held his ground as she got right into his face and hissed, "Of course you don't know anything about my family. The only victims that ever mattered were your own parents, right?"
Harry's eyes widened, ever so slightly. "That's why you don't like me?" His brain was hurrying to catch up to her words. "Because people remember my parent's death?"
"Everybody else just gets swept under the rug, like they never mattered in the first place." Susan looked at him with the same disgust as she always had, but now Harry was beginning to understand why. "The Boy-Who-Lived. Like you're the only person who was ever hurt by the war." Susan stepped forward again, and this time Harry did take a step back. "The whole world might worship you for your parent's sacrifice, but they did nothing more then what thousands of others already did before them. They're just the ones that history chooses to remember."
Harry stared at her, unable to turn away from the intensity of her gaze, but also unable to say anything in response. But luckily, he didn't have to. After a few tense moments, a woman called out, "Susan? Where are you?"
"I'm coming!" Susan called back, finally taking her eyes off Harry. She walked towards the voice without turning back once.
Harry spent a few moments leaning against the bookshelf, trying to understand exactly what just happened, before he shook himself out of it. He refused to feel guilty for the world choosing to honour his parents, and it wasn't his fault that other casualties had been forgotten by history.
As he plucked The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts from the shelf and made his way to the counter to pay, he caught a glimpse of Susan leaving the shop with the same elderly witch from Madam Malkin's.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
After his school shopping, Harry returned to Brightstone House in order to pack his trunk and change into his new school robes. After lunch and a few bored hours lounging in front of the Odeon, Harry made his way to Flamel's laboratory in order to say his goodbyes.
Entering through the small door in the library, Harry walked down the winding, spiral staircase for nearly a minute before he found himself at a burnished metal door that would have rivalled one of Gringotts in its sheer density. Knocking firmly, Harry only had to wait a few moments before the door was opened without a whisper from its hinges.
"Little Henry, what have I told you about interrupting my work?" Flamel sounded exasperated with him, even though this was the second time he had ever done so, and the first time was because his Exploding Curse had set a tree on fire.
"I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm leaving now." Harry nodded awkwardly. "So, err...goodbye then."
"Already? I had hoped we would have dinner together." Flamel began to step out of his lab, but Harry waved him back.
"We have the Start of Term Feast tonight." He explained to him in case he didn't know. "It's a mandatory school event. I can't get away with missing it."
"At least let me Apparate you-"
"There's no need. I can just the Floo Network to the Howling Tavern."
Flamel nodded as he shifted back on forth in the same spot. It took Harry a minute to realise that he was upset at his departure. Flamel was going to miss him. Not knowing how he was supposed to deal with that, he quickly turned back and began to climb the stairs. "See you."
As he climbed back up the winding stairs, Flamel began to call up after him. "I'll be sure to visit often. To check on your progress."
"Okay." Harry called back.
"Make sure you don't write your name down for the holiday list! I expect you home for Christmas!"
Harry was slower responding this time. Home for Christmas? "Okay!" He shouted back; the uneasiness was clear in his voice.
"Make sure you eat properly at every meal! Don't be afraid to eat snacks in class if you're feeling hungry! If any of your teachers have a problem with it, you tell me! I'll set them straight!"
The very thought of such an embarrassing intervention had Harry running for the library door without calling back a third time.
For the third time that day, Harry prepared himself to use the Floo Network to travel, but this time it was an uncomfortable fit as he was also standing in the fireplace with his trunk. He would have preferred to travel on the Knight Bus with his luggage, but it didn't work over water. Flamel had offered to make a Portkey a few days ago but knowing how much work went into creating one for even a single use, it felt frivolous to accept.
Throwing down the Floo Powder, Harry made the lengthy journey between the Isle of Wight and Scotland in under a minute, and he stepped out of the Howling Tavern's fireplace in a burst of harmless green flames. Waving his wand over himself, Harry cast "Scourgify!" and watched as the ash vanished from his brand-new school uniform.
Nodding at Pam the barmaid, Harry dropped three Sickles on the bar for his Floo use and made his way out the door with his trunk floating along behind him. Stepping out onto the street, Harry paused only for a moment in order to reacclimatise himself with the town's geography and once he was reoriented, he made his way up the incline towards Hogwarts.
Harry had never actually made the journey on foot before. Last September, Hagrid had taken the First Years from Hogsmeade Station to Hogwarts through a forest footpath and made the rest of the journey by boat. The few times he had bothered to go to Hogsmeade the legitimate way, there had always been horseless carriages available to him.
Now that he was making the journey both on foot and above ground, he was beginning to realise that Hogwarts was a lot further away than it seemed to be. The secret passageways must have been enchanted to shorten the journey, either that or the forested path that led to the school's gates from Hogsmeade was enchanted to be longer. Perhaps to slow down an invasion force.
Still, Harry took it as a mark of his own improvement that he wasn't out of breath as the school gates came into sight, nor did he have a debilitating stitch in his side as he would have had a couple of months ago. While he had remained somewhat sceptical in Flamel's training, he couldn't say that it wasn't at least a little beneficial.
Harry was distracted by the thoughts of his own self-improvement, but not so much that he didn't notice the slow change that came upon the air as he neared the gates.
The bright sun seemed to dim, as though it were obscured by a cloud, but Harry could see with his own eyes that it still shone unobstructed in the clear sky. A haze seemed to settle over the world around him, as though everything had been reduced to black and white, and a dense mist began to roll in towards him. Harry would have thought it was Flamel simply playing a trick on him again if it weren't for the distant screams that were ringing in his ears.
Harry felt his heart begin to race as the mist brought a cool chill with it, leaving him coated under a layer of cold sweat as he made the last stretch to the school's southern gates, his feet moving automatically without any input on his part. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, at least, not until he saw them.
On either side of the gate were a dozen wraiths, floating inches above the ground as though they were guarding the school from interlopers. Each of the wraiths was identical to the last; ten feet tall and skeletally thin, as though they had each been stretched out to match the length of the others, and they wore long, ripped, black cloaks that seemed to blend into the mist that surrounded them. Part of their bodies were exposed by the tears in their cloaks and their hands remained unhindered, so he could see that their flesh was grey and decomposing, like a corpse that had been left to rot in water.
Worst of all were their mouths. Unobscured by their low hoods, he could see even from this distance that they were open and lipless, with neither teeth nor tongues, and that the inside of their mouths was putrid, mottled flesh.
Dementors, Harry distantly recognised their forms from illustrations that he had seen. They should be in Azkaban.
As one the Dementors tipped their heads back to the sky, and Harry watched their thin chests expand as they simultaneously took in deep, rattling breaths, as though they had just caught the scent of their favourite meal being cooked.
In synchronisation, all twelve turned to face him.
Then they swooped in.
Harry turned, trying to find an avenue of escape, but whichever direction he faced, the cobblestone path back to Hogsmeade or the forest on either side, he was only met with more Dementors. He was trapped.
Harry wished he could say that he fought. He wished he could even say that he ran away, but the fight or flight response failed him, as with every second that the Dementors glided closer towards him, the screaming in his ears only increased in volume. Harry was rooted to the spot as his breathing became quick and rapid and his senses were overtaken by the Dementors increasing presence and the nightmares of his past.
There going to Kiss me, Harry realised hollowly, too deep in his shock to have a greater reaction. I'm going to become just another Dementor.
Just when the shock was beginning pass through him, letting despair take its place, there was a familiar ethereal glow that was sprinting towards him with great speed, the kind of white light that Harry had only seen being released from a Patronus. However, instead of a Phoenix it was a wolf this time.
The previously silent Dementors fell back with screeches, as though the light of the Patronus was enough to burn them. Just like that, the world seemed to snap back to normal. The sun was shining brightly again, the mist disappeared, and all the colour seeped back to reality. The last effect to fade was the audible nightmares, but as the sound of Quirrell's final rattling breath faded from his ears, it was replaced with a familiar voice.
"-you alright? Harry? Answer me!" Lupin was hurrying towards him, and his wolf Patronus was bounding around him, as though protecting Harry from any lingering effects.
"I'm alright." Harry said quietly, too drained to even question Lupin's presence here. He noted, vaguely, that his old teacher wasn't alone. Hurrying just behind him was a worried looking Hagrid. "Those were Dementors." He strained to speak at a normal volume. "What are they doing here? What are they doing away from Azkaban?"
"Well, there guarding the school, aren't they?" Hagrid said this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Thousands of parents threatened to pull their kids out of school if the Coalition didn't order increased security for all the magical schools."
Harry frowned. "But why's security needed in the first place?" He was fairly sure that Flamel hadn't bothered to inform anyone of Voldemort's near return, and Harry didn't have much opportunity to tell anyone either.
Hagrid and Lupin exchanged a bewildered look. "The Azkaban breakout. Why else?"
Harry was so surprised that he momentarily forgot about his animosity towards Lupin. "What? Breakout? When?"
"Well over two months ago." Lupin still looked bemused at Harry's lack of awareness. "All of Voldemort's followers escaped, including the remaining Acolytes. How have you not heard about this?"
Harry started walking for the carriage the two had arrived in, just wanting to take a nap in his dormitory before he had to go to the feast. "I've had a busy summer." The woman who attacked me in London, Harry realised, she must have been a Death Eater. It was the only explanation that he could think of that would explain why a complete stranger would attack him. But not why another stranger would save me. He still couldn't make heads or tails of the woman who had transformed from a bear-sized dog.
Looking up when he heard scraping sound, Harry saw two horses without flesh or muscle, with black, leathery skin that was stretched out over their skeletal frames. Their eyes were milky white and folded atop their backs were massive wings that were reminiscent of a bat's.
"Thestrals." Lupin said carefully. "They can only be seen by people who have seen death."
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, wishing Flamel had denied Dumbledore and let him stay year-round at Brightstone, as he wasn't sure he could deal with any more morbid surprises. When the moment was done, he clambered into the carriage without a word.
In silence, Lupin and Hagrid climbed back aboard and the carriage started its trot back to school.
As they crossed the Boundary into the school grounds, Harry felt the Dementors' presence recede into nothingness. Lupin began to ask, "What kept you so busy-?" But Harry cut him off.
"What did you get up to this summer, Hagrid?" Harry asked, wanting to avoid dealing with Lupin entirely.
"Nothing much." Hagrid said shortly, and Harry furrowed his brow in concern. Hagrid was never short with him, and he hadn't looked once in Harry's direction since the Dementors had fled. "Just been nurturing some Flobberworms. In fact, I'd best be getting back to them now." With that, he squeezed out of the still moving carriage and walked in the direction of his house, leaving Harry and Lupin to stare after him.
After a few moments, Lupin tried again. "So, what kept you so busy-?"
Once more, Harry interrupted him. "I'd better go help him out with those Flobberworms." He jumped out of the carriage and hurried after Hagrid, leaving Lupin without a single glance back at him. Harry knew that was a bit harsh, especially after he had just saved his life, but feelings of betrayal and abandonment were hard things to shake off.
Walking quickly after Hagrid, and then realising that he was never going to catch up to him like that, Harry broke out into a jog and stopped only when they were walking side by side. When Hagrid didn't say anything at all for the next few minutes, even when his house came into view, Harry tried to be the one to break the ice by asking the obvious.
"Are you angry at me?" Harry asked bluntly.
"Yes, I am." Hagrid said, keeping his eyes fixed in his house. "You attacked me in my own home."
Harry grimaced. He had hoped that Hagrid would simply brush it off as a bizarre dream. "In my defence, you were keeping a big secret from me. My parents?"
Hagrid's expression wavered, but he remained stubborn. "You could've just asked me, you know."
"I didn't know that." Harry stopped walking, and after a few more steps, Hagrid did the same. "You didn't tell me the truth in the first place, so how was I supposed to know what you would say if I just asked you?"
"I suppose now we'll never know." After one last disapproving frown, Hagrid increased his pace, leaving Harry in his wake. Harry stopped walking after him and watched him go, unable to believe that he was the one that was acting hurt in all of this. He had already resolved himself into spending far less time with his friends this year, even going as far as to ignoring their letters, but this just reminded him what a great waste of time it all was. Much better to spend it doing things that would actually matter in the long run, like training and studying.
They're all just distractions, Harry reminded himself. I don't have any time to waste on them anyway.
With this in mind, Harry made a quick detour on his way up to the castle, heading instead towards the Quidditch stadium. Entering the Ravenclaw changing room, Harry put his Nimbus 2000 back in his locker and walked right back out again.
Entering the castle, Harry wasn't all that surprised to see that he wasn't the only student that had chosen to skip the train ride to the castle. Plenty of students lived in Hogsmeade and it would be pointless to ask them to travel all the way to London just to travel back again, and many more simply sought permission from their Heads of Houses to come to school via other methods. It would be folly to say that the castle was anywhere near packed, but Harry was able to go unnoticed as he made his way to Ravenclaw Tower, followed by his floating trunk.
Ignoring everyone in the common room, Harry entered the boy's staircase and made the climb to the highest landing, noticing that even in his drained state he found it far easier to make the climb than he had last year.
The moment he entered his bare dormitory, Harry stripped out if his uniform, throwing the articles of clothing in every corner of the room. When he was finally naked, he entered the bathroom and put the bathtub's taps on full blast, creating a colourful bubble bath in a matter of seconds.
Harry slipped into the water and allowed it to wash away the disgusting clamminess that remained after his run in with the Dementors. As he lay his head back against the edge if the tub, allowing the steaming water to lull him into a state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness Harry wondered if this was how the rest of his life was going to be. Would he be in danger every time he left the house? Would he have to spend his entire life on guard for some kind of attack?
These thoughts stayed with him longer than the rest, and they were the last to disappear as his mind fell into a peaceful, blank state.
It was only when the water had grown cold did he finally snap out of it. Harry sat up and saw through his open bathroom door to the window that the sun had set. Scrambling out of the water, he wasted a minute searching for a towel before realising that he hadn't unpacked it and the Automatons hadn't had a chance to lay out his things for him.
Harry entered his dorm in a hurry, bare and dripping wet, searching his trunk for a towel before remembering that he was a wizard. Slipping on his Ouroboros, Harry summoned his wand and cast, "Accio Towel!" A brand-new fluffy white towel that had been placed among his things by the Brightstone House Automaton came zooming out if his trunk, and Harry quickly set upon drying himself before he caught a cold and was forced to see Madam Pomfrey on the first day for a Pepper-Up Potion.
For the second time that day, Harry dressed himself in his new school uniform, all the while wishing he knew a spell that could dry his hair. Feeling glad that the school hat was mandatory at feasts, Harry put it on over his still wet hair and made for the door.
Noticing that the common was empty, Harry pulled out the folded Marauder's Map from his pocket and checked to see how late he was. If everyone was already seated then he would skip the feast all together, preferring the punishment than looking like an idiot by entering late. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, only half the school was seated while the rest were still headed to the Great Hall.
Stopping at the portrait of Gryffindor and the other Knights of the Round Table, Harry murmured, "Valour." The portrait swung open to reveal a slide and Harry jumped right in, and he was unable to ignore the urge to whoop as he always felt when he took this particular secret passage. The end of the seven-story slide ended with a dangerous uptick into open air, but Harry was much better prepared to land in a roll this time around.
Rolling onto his feet, he checked the map to make sure that there was no one on the other side, before exiting through the portrait of the Battle of Camlann on the ground floor.
Hurrying towards the Entrance Hall, Harry was able to slip in among his peers and he followed the crowd into the Great Hall. He knew, as he walked to the Ravenclaw table, that he would have to sit with his fellow Second Years for the duration of the official feast, and he had already resolved himself to deflecting all their probing questions about where he had disappeared to and why he had ignored their letters.
However, that wasn't what came to pass. As Harry sat down in the wide space between Terry and Lisa, none of the other Second Year Ravenclaw boys offered a greeting. In fact, Harry noticed that the boys seemed to be ignoring each other as well for reasons that were beyond him. Despite his curiosity on the matter, Harry forced himself to go along with it. This was even better than he could have hoped.
"She's ignoring you." Padma hissed suddenly from across the table, looking like she was about to share juicy gossip. Months ago, Harry would have indulged her and asked what she was talking about, but now he remained silent. After a moment, Padma continued undeterred. "You said you were going to dance with her at the End-of-Term party!"
Harry couldn't stop himself. "What?"
"Lisa!" Padma whispered loud enough that all the Second Year Ravenclaws could hear. "You ditched her!" She sounded indignant, but it was obvious that she was enjoying herself.
Harry blinked. "I can't ditch someone if I wasn't there in the first place." Padma and Isobel stifled their laughter, while Su and Amanda simply glared at him. He wasn't sure what he said that was so bad, but Lisa stood up and made Amanda swap seats with her.
"I thought you were nice." Amanda whispered as she sat down beside him. Her tone was quiet enough so that only he could hear. "She was really upset."
Harry frowned at her. "What on earth made you think I was nice?" He slid down the bench to get away from the girls and ended up moving closer to the boys. There was an awkward silence as all four boys regarded one another, and Harry took note of their minute changes since he had seen them last.
Anthony had grown a couple of inches, and his meticulously styled hair was shaved more closely to the scalp than ever before. He was quiet, but in a different way than he usually was. Something about him seemed different, more intense. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he seemed far dourer than when Harry had seen him last.
Terry was unusually quiet, and he was avoiding looking at his brother entirely. While still the smallest of all of them, he'd clearly had a growth spurt, as he had grown at least three or four inches over the last couple of months. He no longer looked like an eight-year-old who had somehow found their way onto the Hogwarts Express. Amusingly, he had grown his hair out over the summer and crafted it in a careless, messy style, abandoning the spikes he had worn all last year, as though he no longer felt the need to compensate for his height.
Michael didn't seem to have grown at all vertically, but he had put on a little bit of weight over the summer, as though he had abandoned his usually strict Quidditch regimen. Like Terry, he had foregone any haircuts over the summer, and he now had a mass of curls that could rival Harry's own.
Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the Great Hall, leading in the stream of brand new First Years, and unwittingly breaking the tense silence that the four boys were under. Just like last year, the Sorting Hat sung its song and the new students were sorted into their houses by alphabetical order.
Harry didn't care enough to pay attention, only clapping when the Ravenclaws around him clapped in order to avoid standing out. It was only when the last student had been sorted and Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked through the table to stand at the podium that had flying boars carved into it, did Harry finally begin to pay attention to what was going on around him.
"To our new students, I say welcome! And to our returning students, I say welcome back!" Dumbledore surveyed the hall as though nothing brought him more joy than to see the Great Hall filled with children. "In a minute, we will begin our delicious feast, but before then I have two announcements to make."
"The first, is that Professor Quirrell has resigned from his position as Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry forced himself to not react in anyway, which was quite hard as he wasn't expecting to hear the name of the man he had murdered announced to the entire school. "As such, we have found ourselves a replacement. Professor Remus Lupin!" Dumbledore gave a sweeping motion of the arm, and like a puppet, Lupin shot to his feet.
There was a subdued round of applause, and Harry knew exactly why. Quirrell had been a popular teacher, always happy to give his classes a practical twist, and he was always rather lenient compared to the other professors. Lupin, on the other hand, was a complete unknown. Only Harry had ever experienced having him as a teacher, but he was one of the few that didn't clap at all. He was too busy reprimanding himself.
Of course he's a Hogwarts Professor now. What did you think? That he was just here to have tea with Dumbledore? Harry made sure none of his turmoil reached the surface, and his face remained carefully blank.
Dumbledore continued. "Secondly, as all of you should be aware, there was a mass breakout of Azkaban in June." His eyes flickered to each table, lingering on the bunched groups of First Years, which included Muggle-borns who were introduced to the Wizarding World weeks ago. Harry pitied whichever teacher had been forced to explain the Azkaban breakout to Muggle parents. "As such, many places of high value, educational institutions such as Hogwarts and places of governing power such as the Ministry of Magic, will be protected by Dementors for the foreseeable future."
Dumbledore's eyes swept over them all as he tried to communicate the seriousness of this. "I ask you all to keep your distance from them, and to never tread out of bounds. Dementors are cold, uncaring creatures, unable to tell the difference between friend or foe. Should you tempt fate, you will be gambling with more than just your life." There was a long stretch of silence, as he allowed his warning to sink in, before he his smile came back quicker than the snap of a rubber band. "Well, that's all. Please, tuck in." He waved his hands and the feast appeared on all five tables upon golden dishes.
Slowly, everyone began to fill their plates and eat, Dumbledore's stark warning having effectively ruined the post-summer mood.
"Well, that was cheerful!" Eddie said from down the table with the other fourth years. There was a scattering of laughter and the subdued air disappeared and conversations and the sound of cutlery, took its place.
Harry made sure to fill his plate with plenty of greens while he ate his dinner but was unable to resist a slice of chocolate cake when desert rolled around. If Flamel somehow found out about it, he would point him to the page in his own grimoire that said that chocolate was the best medicine after dealing with a Dementor attack.
When the feast was over, Harry followed the rest of his house to the common room the normal way, lacking the effort necessary to shove his way through a crowd this size on his full stomach. When he finally made it to the common room, he was stopped from going up to his dormitory by Maria who caught his arm and directed him to the seats by the fireplace. There, the entire Quidditch team, including Rodger Davis, were waiting for him.
Everyone was sitting, but Harry remained standing.
"What?" Harry yawned, not appreciating being stopped from reaching his bed.
"Aw, is it past your bedtime?" Maria teased.
"Yes." Harry said bluntly.
She snorted. "It won't take long." She promised, and then she, like everyone else, turned to Fiona. It took Harry a second to see the Quidditch Captain badge pinned to her robes.
"All right, we need to talk about practice." Fiona began, sitting straight in her chair, looking very little like the shy girl from last September. "We're the team to beat this year, so we're going to have to work twice as hard this time around-"
Harry cut her off. "I'm off the team." He said bluntly.
Everyone turned to stare at him. "What?" Fiona asked finally.
"I'm off the team." He repeated himself.
"Why?" Marcus asked. "Has this got to do with Robert?"
"What? No, otherwise I'd have left the team before the finals."
"Has this got to do with your family?" Maria asked. She shuffled closer, sounding concerned.
Harry blinked. "What about them?"
"When you disappeared in June, Flitwick told us that you went home for a family emergency." Fiona explained. "Is everything okay at home?"
They abandoned me a year ago without so much as a warning, so yeah, things are actually better than ever. He didn't actually say that out loud.
"This has nothing to do with that." Harry said firmly, continuing before they kept on theorising. "We won the cup before, so what's the point in doing it again? It's a waste of time." He ignored their appalled looks. "Besides, I've got WOMBATs this year. That's more important."
"I've got WOMBATs this year too." Michael blurted out, speaking to Harry for the first time in months. "I'm still on the team."
Harry felt anger that he had buried deep since their argument in the school kitchens quickly rise to the surface. "You and I have different standards for academic success. But as your grades show, that's mostly out of your control." Michael flushed and Eddie snorted, seemingly against his will. "Besides, you weren't much help to the team last season, were you? If you actually live up to that fat mouth of yours, you might actually contribute to a Quidditch Cup this season. Maybe."
Marcus had to stop Michael from leaping at Harry. While his former best friend struggled against the Seventh Year's grip, Harry turned away from the team. "Find yourself a new Seeker. I'm out."
Maria tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but Harry brushed it off and headed for the stairs.
Oh, it's so good to be home.