Author's Note: Hello again! This a slightly shorter chapter than usual, but contains a thoughtful Harry and Hermione moment (I hope). If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say the story is just under half way to the finish line, and it's been a learning experience. For those who have asked, yes, the trio will inevitibly be forced to vacate Grimmuald Place, but that day is not today. Hopefully, the way I have that planned will be unique and plausible. My only hint is what Dumbledore told Harry in HBP; "Magic always leaves traces."
For those who may not be aware, I have also started my more canon-loose story that starts in third year; Courage Rising.
As always, thanks for the patience, the comments, and the follows. You are all truly marvelous people.
It all belongs to Jo.
Cheers.
Chapter Twenty One: The Shape-Shifting Patronus
The Dementors swarmed above them, descending in a swirl of ragged black cloaks. Umbridge's sufficient, albeit weak Patronus had simply kept them at bay and masked the overwhelming frosty air of their presence; now they raced toward their potential victims, the full weight of their sapping aura filling the entirety of the chamber.
"Patronusses, now," said Kingsley, raising his own wand toward the oncoming Dementors. His lynx Patronus lunged in front of him. Arthur was quick to reach Kingsley's side as he sent his own Patronus into the air. Urged by their castors, the lynx and weasel circled around them, pushing against several Dementors. But they were not enough as more Dementors continued their descent from the high recesses of the chamber. It was clear, now, to Harry, that Umbridge's Patronus was not what had kept the Dementors at bay—they had recognized the authority over them had ceased when Umbridge had fallen unconscious.
"Ron, Hermione, we've got to help them," shouted Harry, as he raised his wand. The bright silver stag erupted from his wand and began a methodical canter around them. The lynx and weasel bound themselves to the back of Harry's stag and the first wave of Dementors rebounded against an invisible wall. Still, more Dementors were descending.
But Ron and Hermione had never used a Patronus like this—not under this kind of pressure. Ron tried three times before a weakly-formed terrier leapt from his wand, joining the stag at his hoofed feet. It wasn't much, Ron's Patronus, but it helped fight the second advancing line of Dementors.
"Expecto Patronum," said Hermione, her wand arm shaking. Nothing happened; it was the only spell in which Hermione had trouble performing.
"You can do it, Hermione," said Harry confidently.
"Ex-Expect-Expecto Patronum," she said again, her voice more feeble than before. Again nothing happened.
"Happy thoughts, Hermione," said Harry, urging his stag aggressively. Three waves of Dementors had been repelled and sent retreating back into the horde above them. Harry knew it would only be moments before they descended with their full force. Even with the Patronusses circling them, Harry could feel the clammy coldness over his exposed skin. He'd only repelled this many Dementors once before. He could hear an uncomfortable hum in his ears, a distorted hum he knew to be his mother's scream should their struggle prolong any further.
"Expecto Patronum," shouted Hermione; a thin silvery wisp shot from her wand and though its substance was hazy, began to take shape of the familiar otter Harry had seen before. But the weakly-formed otter soon dissipated into a cloud of glistening vapor. The shapeless cloud hovered toward Harry's stag, falling into the same pace beside it. It had a large form, whatever it was; the shapeless Patronus was now cantering around them in the same way that Harry's stag did, but still, it took no definitive form. But no one had time to consider the strange phenomenon that was Hermione's Patronus, for the horde of Dementors descended upon them in full force. As the first Dementors drew near, Hermione's feeble Patronus vanished. Harry looked over in time to see Hermione's legs give way beneath the oppressive cold of the Dementors. Her face was tinged with blue, and without even thinking, Harry dashed the short distance between them and caught her before she collapsed. He could hear the flapping of the Dementor's cloaks above him as they approached with speed but they didn't matter as he looked upon defeated face of his best friend.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered as the effects of the Polyjuice faded away. "I've always been rubbish when it mattered most."
"That's rubbish," replied Harry defiantly. "You know it." He eyed the exit doors of the chamber. They could run for it, but for what purpose? The Dementors would simply follow them into the Ministry, putting more wizards and witches at risk. He wondered how many ministry officials could even produce a Patronus. No, they had to repel the Dementors before they exited the chambers. It was the only option. Then the most peculiar thought occurred to Harry. The idea was mad, foolish at best. Still, he could think of no reason why it wouldn't work. Holding Hermione firmly with one arm, he raised his wand at the horde and bellowed:
"Expecto Patronum!" In truth, Harry fully expected the spell to fail. His next expectation had been to see his previously summoned Patronus vanish and be replaced with a fresh, newly casted one. But neither of these expectations came to fruition. Nor did a new Patronus appear. Rather, a field of shimmering, pulsating white light erupted from his wand and covered them like a dome. There was more.
The already present Patronus animals were absorbed into the shield-like dome, causing another violent pulse of light to flash from the energy that continued to project from Harry's wand. There was a sound coming from the shield with every gently rhythmic vibration; it was subtle, but it reminded Harry of the night his and Voldemort's wands had connected in the graveyard. This Patronus—if it could be called that—repelled the Dementors with significant force. Now all they needed was to get to the doors of the chamber. Then, as if the magic from Harry's wand knew his thoughts, the shield began to expand, pushing the Dementors higher and higher into the dark cavities of the unseen chamber ceiling.
"Let's go," shouted Kingsley, taking Cattermole by the arm and pulling her onward as Reginald followed swiftly behind. Harry lifted Hermione to her feet as Ron took her other arm over his shoulders. Together, he and Harry supported Hermione with her slow retreat from the chamber. Arthur followed behind them, his back facing the chamber doors in order to ensure they weren't followed. As they reached the door, Harry broke his connection with the spell, surprised to find that the shield remained. Once they were safely in the hall, Kingsley sealed the courtroom doors so the Dementors did not escape.
"Right, well, that could have gone better," said Kingsley with a heavy sigh.
"No point in dwelling on it," said Arthur. "We need to get you three out of here, now."
"Hermione, can you walk," asked Harry.
"Yes, I think so," she said, disentangling herself from the boys. Her legs shook violently, but she held herself up. "I don't know what happened—I'm sorry."
"With that many Dementors, I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did, Hermione," said Arthur. "I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to hold on."
"The fact all three of you can produce Patronusses—in any form—at your age is a feat in itself," said Kinglsey. "Speaking of which, Harry, when did you learn to do that with a Patronus? I've never seen anything like it."
"I don't know," said Harry. "But now isn't really the time for it, is it?"
"Indeed not," said Kingsley apologetically.
"And it's not just us three that needs to leave," said Hermione. "These two can't simply stroll through the Ministry can they?"
"We'll take them separately," said Arthur, giving Reginald a nod. "We'll find them a safe place to lie low for a while."
"Hermione, do you still have your second vial of potion," asked Harry. She nodded though the clamminess of her insides protested the thought of another dose of Polyjuice. Hermione removed the vial from the compartment on her wand holster and drank. Ron did likewise.
"And you, Harry, should get beneath your cloak," said Kingsley.
"Wait," said Mary. She walked over to Harry, timidly, and took his face into both her hands and kissed him softly on the forehead.
"Thank you," she said, looking at all her rescuers. "All of you, thank you; I know you didn't come specifically for me, but you could have just as easily left me. Merlyn watch over you, Harry Potter."
() () ()
Back at Grimmauld Place, Kreacher had already prepared supper. Arthur had been invited to stay but declined, saying he preferred to return to Molly as quickly as he could so she would not worry. He did however, inquire about the locket; Mr. Weasley could tell it was far more than a piece of jewelry.
"Sorry, Arthur," Harry had said, "it's best now knowing."
Ron, by contrast, stopped worrying about Horcruxes all-together as Kreacher presented his promised steak-and-kidney pie.
"I've been looking forward to this all day," he said, plunging a fork into the flakey crust. Hermione didn't speak through supper. Despite having consumed a full bar of dark chocolate, her hands were still noticeably shaky and she ate her pie with slow, methodical precision. Harry watched her eat from the corner of his eye. Each bite she took was accompanied by an internal conversation. So, when Ron excused himself from the table to take a shower, Harry took the opportunity to finally say something.
"Are you alright, Hermione?"
"I'll be fine," she said with a quick smile. "I'm still just a little shaken up is all."
"Dementors are never pleasant," he said with a full endorsement. Silence fell in the kitchen as Hermione's gaze appeared to focus on a particular knot at the center of the table. That's when Harry knew.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Harry.
"For what," she asked, speaking again. She did not, however, meet his gaze.
"I forgot what it's like facing a Dementor for the first time," said Harry sheepishly. "I forgot you never had the chance to learn what they're really like—what they can do to you." Hermione didn't answer him, but she gave him an appreciative nod.
"Well, if you want to talk about it, come find me, okay," he said, picking up his plate and setting it in the sink. He gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and retreated from the kitchen. He mentally kicked himself as he sunk into the thick cushions of the couch. The elation he'd felt earlier in the evening as they stowed the locket Horcrux into Hermione's charmed handbag—stored safely inside the Mokeskin pouch—vanished instantly as realized he'd overlooked the struggle Hermione had endured inside the chamber. Harry did not, however, have long to brood.
"Harry?"
"Yeah," he said, looking over his shoulder. Hermione stood in the archway timidly, chewing her bottom lip a bit more harshly than usual.
"Can we talk, about earlier," she asked, sitting down at the end of the couch.
"I said we could," said Harry encouragingly. At first Hermione seemed to reconsider her decision. She opened her mouth to speak several times, but no words came.
"It's alright," said Harry after a minute or so passed. "You don't have to say anything."
"It's silly," she said hurriedly, finding her voice at last. "How can I possibly be feeling so…so miserable when nothing in my life has been as horrible as yours?" Harry moved closer and took her into his arms. She hid it well, but Harry felt her subtle shivers as she curled into Harry's torso.
"It's not silly," said Harry softly. "The more Dementors there are, the more effect they have on us. Everything is amplified; their presence is colder, their pull on the worst moments of our life is stronger—it's enough for anyone."
"I couldn't even produce a corporeal Patronus, Harry," she said mortified. "I'm supposed to be the brightest, the best, and when it mattered—"
"When it mattered, you did what you always do," said Harry, oblivious that he was twirling his finger in her bushy curls. "You were right there, beside me; that's what matters most."
"It's not enough," she argued, her voice muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You need more from me; I used to be the one protecting you. Everything changed after the tournament; you don't need me anymore."
"Hermione, that's enough," said Harry. He pulled her away so he could look her straight in the eyes, chocolate brown eyes that swam with tears. "Listen to me; I will always need you. Who made sure I took the right potion to get to Quirrell? Who discovered the identity of the monster in the Chamber of Secrets? Who stood between a suspected murderer and me? Who went backwards in time to save the only family I'd ever known? Who spent countless hours researching spells and devising strategies to make sure I'd survive an extremely dangerous tournament? Who's the only person who never turned their back on me? That was you.
"And you're right; everything changed after the tournament, but it wasn't you. I'm the one that pushed you away because I thought I had to be strong. I did to you what Dumbledore had done to me. Truthfully, I pushed everyone away. But you never stopped protecting me. Who made the Essence of Murtlap to sooth my hand? Who helped keep my hot head cool? Who tried to give me caution even when I didn't want to hear it? Who pushed me to teach others to defend themselves? Who guarded me from those only interested in my fame? Who promised to step through the flames with me? That was you. I need you, Hermione."
Hermione was wiping away tears with her shirt sleeve, but Harry had not yet released his grip on her shoulders. Without any words, Hermione curled back into Harry's chest. Her shivers had subsided then, though Harry could still feel the cold on the skin of her hands as she brushed his neck. Instinctively, Harry held her tighter, trying to warm her, but he knew the cold she felt was from the inside.
"Do you remember the practical exam Lupin had set up for us," she asked after a while.
"Yeah," said Harry, unsure where this was going.
"You remember how I struggled with the Bogart?"
"Yeah," said Harry with a smile. "You said the Boggart turned into Professor McGonagall and said you'd failed everything."
"I was so embarrassed."
"It's alright," he said, "you managed to deal with the Boggart appropriately."
"No, I'm embarrassed I didn't tell you the truth," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"The Boggart didn't turn into Professor McGonagall, Harry."
"I don't understand; what did it turn into?"
"It turned into you," she said quietly.
"Now I'm really confused," admitted Harry. "You were afraid of me?"
"I saw you dead, Harry," she said quieter still. "We didn't know Sirius was innocent then; I saw him standing over your dead body, Harry, laughing. And then it morphed and it wasn't Sirius anymore, but it was…"
"Tom," said Harry. Hermione nodded, but she wasn't finished.
"That's what I saw today," she said. "Or heard, I should say. And then I remembered the graveyard, as if I'd been the one who saw him return, heard the sound of rushing death as Cedric died…heard your tortured screams...your pleading with Dumbledore…"
"So my memories—because you watched them—became your memories, in a sense, and the Dementors drew upon them?" Hermione nodded once more.
"How pathetic am I," she asked, "that my worst memories are imagined or not mine at all, but rather they're yours?"
"Whatever it is, it's not pathetic," said Harry, feeling a rush of emotion. "But it proves my point from earlier; who but you would take my burdens and make them your own?"
"But I was so weak today," she said, shaking her head. "And I don't even know what to think of my Patronus; I've never heard of one changing shape in the midst of performing the spell."
"And you'll figure it out," said Harry confidently. "Because that's who you are; you're the brightest witch of our age, remember?"
"But you need more," she said. "You need more than my brains."
"Of course I do," said Harry with a smile. "I need everything you are, Hermione. Everything."