Heir
Unapparent: Chapter Six - The Patronus
Albus
Dumbledore looked every minute of his one hundred and seventy five years as he
rested his weary head in his hands. Minerva McGonagall's face was pinched, a study in outrage. Severus Snape poured each of them a double
draft from the tall carafe on Dumbledore's credenza, handing them around
grimly.
"That
is all he said, Albus. But it was… more
than enough."
Sighing
deeply, Dumbledore accepted the glass from Snape, who had just finished
delivering his grim report of Voldemort's intentions. He drained the glass in one long swallow. "A consort," he said at last. "Of course. I should have realized…"
McGonagall,
who had quickly emptied her own glass, began to pace the length of his office
as if to wear a path on the faded Persian rug. "It… it's… abominable!" she burst at last.
"Of
course it is, Minerva," agreed Dumbledore mildly. "It is abominable,
but it is consistent, for Voldemort."
"And
'a Slytherin would be appropriate'!" she fumed, quoting Voldemort's evil
words exactly.
Snape
shook his head. "You'd prefer a
Griffindor, Minerva?" he asked bitterly.
Minerva
McGonagall leveled her lovely, icy blue eyes at him. "I'd prefer that demon to crawl back into the grave
he so narrowly escaped!"
Snape
held her angry gaze. Despite her cold
fury, she was a beautiful woman. Why
had he never noticed this? Or had he? Perhaps he had never allowed himself to see
her clearly. He had been mistaken,
about a great many things…
Minerva
softened slightly under Snape's steady regard. "Poor Severus," she murmured, laying a gentle hand on his
shoulder. "You, of all of us, are
carrying the heaviest burden."
"Indeed."
agreed Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "We are most fortunate that Voldemort does not suspect you,
Severus. We must make certain he had no
reason to do so, before we are ready."
McGonagall
wheeled about. "Surely you are not
suggesting…"
"That
we provide him a 'suitable young witch'? Of course not, Minerva." He put the ends of his long fingers
together. "But we must give the
illusion that Severus is… cooperating."
"How?"
asked Snape bluntly.
"We
must stall for time, my friends." Albus Dumbledore stood. "I
will speak with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Perhaps they can create a diversion, buy us the time we need. I only hope it will be enough…"
He
joined Minerva in pacing along the carpet. "We must advance our plan
immediately, Severus. Tomorrow, in your
Dark Arts classes, I want you to begin…"
"Perhaps
they are not yet ready, Albus…"
Dumbledore
shook his head and said flatly, "Whether they are ready or not. Voldemort will not wait until they
are more advanced in their studies!" He stroked his long grey beard pensively, then added, "Teach them
all, but pay special attention to the fifth years…"
Snape
knew exactly what he meant: teach Potter well. Wearily, he nodded. "Very
well. I will begin with…
patronus." With a bow, he left the
office.
Minerva
looked after him, concern written on her fine features. "I am worried for him, Albus…"
Sighing,
the older wizard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "As am I, Minerva. But remember this: there is a power that is bigger… than all of us combined. It is from this we draw our strength to
defeat the enemy…"
The
Griffindors awaited their Dark Arts instructor nervously. Unlike the previous year, when they queued
up outside the classroom before the bell rang so they could get good seats for
Mad Eye Moody's lecture, they straggled in and took seats in the back of the
class. Hermione, seeing this, felt
oddly sorry for Snape and dragged Ron, Harry and Neville with her to the
front. The latter was particularly
reluctant but went along with the insistent Hermione.
Snape
entered the classroom promptly as the bell sounded. He smiled knowingly at the rows of heads, bent studiously over
their copies of The Dark Forces: An
Intermediate Guide to Self-Protection, certain that not one of them was
actually absorbing any of the text. "Well," he began softly. The young faces looked up at him, warily. "I believe you will not be needing those for today's lesson,
as it will not be covered in that book." They braced themselves and Snape went on. "Today I am going to begin your
instruction in one of the most strenuous forms of defense." Walking to the chalkboard, he spelled out p
a t r o n u s.
The
Griffindors exchanged nervous glances. "But Professor," ventured Seamus Finnigan. "Isn't that a…
seventh year lesson?"
Snape
turned to face the class, his eyes taking them in with a steady sweep. Damn it, they are too young for this
sort of thing, he fumed silently, but reminded himself of Dumbledore's words
and repeated them aloud, modifying them slightly so as not to use the name that
would surely terrify his students. "D'you think that your opponents will
care about your lessons, Finnigan? D'you think that evil takes into account the expertise of its
victims?"
The
class stared at Snape, round eyed. They
knew him to be difficult, but there was an intensity in his present manner that
frightened them. Only the
"threesome", as Snape mentally referred to Granger, Weasley and
Potter, returned his gaze with some understanding. They had been involved in the horrors that concluded the past
academic year. Snape understood
Dumbledore's words more than ever: these three needed to know. They were, for whatever inexplicable
reasons, embroiled in this battle as much as he. Perhaps more so, he thought, as his gaze passed over Potter's
scarred forehead.
"Right. Patronus." Snape continued, sitting on the edge of his desk and lightly
tapping his wand against his palm. "From the Latin, patronus can be defined as 'one's protector
or defender,' but it is ultimately derived from the Latin word 'pater,' which
means 'father.'* Now, what does a
father do?"
Neville's
eyes hit the floor and Harry paled. Neither boy wanted to think of their fathers, given the pain that word
held for them. Dean Thomas raised a
faltering hand and Snape called upon him. "Mr. Thomas?"
"A
father looks out for you, takes care of you…"
"Good
answer. And this is exactly what
your patronus will do." Snape
stood and walked among the rows of students. "Each of you has the magical ability to summon such a being, in
times of need. It is possible that some
of you may be able to do so now; for some, it may take longer. It is a difficult charm. But the point is, each of you can and will
summon your patronus this year. Questions? Miss Brown?"
Lavender's
eyes shone as she asked, "Will it be, like, a friend to us?"
Professor
Snape sighed. There were some young
girls who wanted to befriend or make a pet of everything, and Miss Brown was
one such girl. "Miss Brown, let me
remind you of the topic of this class. We are in Defenses against the Dark Arts, not a social club." She shrunk under his response and he
softened it a bit. "Your patronus
should be regarded more as a shield, a powerful ally, and therefore friendly
toward you in that respect, but you should not plan on addressing your diaries
to it. Does that clarify the matter?"
There
was some nervous laughter; Lavender Brown nodded. "Yes, Professor."
"Very
well. As I have already said, the
Patronus Charm is a difficult one. It
is an extreme projection of positive energy, and requires an incantation that
only works when you concentrate, with every fiber of your will, on a single,
very pleasant thought or memory. I
shall now demonstrate. Watch
closely."
While
Snape closed his eyes and concentrated, Harry found himself wondering what
happy memory Snape could possibly call to mind; did he even have
any? His train of thought was
interrupted as he heard Snape utter, "Expecto patronum!"
Suddenly,
something long and misty curled out of the end of Snape's extended wand. It coiled and loomed above the
students. It was an enormous silver
snake!
"Should've
known!" muttered Ron to Harry as both boys shrank back under the snake's
silvery gleam.
Smiling,
Snape regarded the class under the benevolent beam of his patronus. "As you can see, the patronus is a very
powerful apparition. But it can only be
called forth in a positive frame of mind. It will not harm those who are allies," he added, seeing the
students collectively quaking under his snake's regard. With a deep breath, he waved his wand and
the patronus returned therein.
"Now,
gather around the front. I want you to
space yourselves well apart; it is unlikely that you will be able to call forth
your patronum on this first attempt, but let's prepare nevertheless. Not so close to Miss Granger, if you please,
Mr. Weasley…"
Ensuring
the students had left enough room between them, he began instructing them. "First, close your eyes and paint a
picture in your mind's eye. Make it
your happiest memory, or your most cherished thought. Person, possession, experience - it matters not, so long as it is
associated with your strongest desire or pleasure…"
Obediently,
each student did as Snape advised. Some
of them smiled as they called to mind their most secret or not-so-secret
delights; Snape shook his head as he noticed Ron leaning back toward
Hermione. "Now, as I count to
three, I would like you to utter the incantation, Expecto patronum! On my count, one… two… three!"
The
students uttered the incantation and opened their eyes. Bits of quavering mist issued from some of
their wands; most lay idle to the disappointment of their owners. An exquisite silver stag reared up on its
hind legs in front of Harry.
"Well
done, Potter!" exclaimed Snape, not surprised at the boy's ability, but
relieved to see it in action. Good, he
thought to himself; Potter was going to need all the help he could get.
Harry
blinked, still amazed by Prongs, his father's old nickname which he
affectionately gave his patronus. He
knew well how valuable it was, having saved him once from the chill grip of the
dementors of Azkaban. He was able to
maintain it for several long moments before something golden issuing from
Hermione's wand distracted him. Then
Prongs faded back into his wand.
Hermione's
patronus shivered and faded as quickly as it had emerged, but what he had seen
disturbed Harry. He had no time to
think on it, though, as he joined the class in utter amazement to stare at…
Neville!
Looming
large from Neville's wand was a well-shaped silvery form, definitely a human
shape. The class gasped as one, as
Neville's patronus shimmered and turned to face them.
"My
god, it… it's you, Professor!" cried Parvati Patil.
Snape
regarded his own visage, first with shock, and then an enormous grin split his
face ear to ear. It was the first time
his students had ever seen him smile without malice.
"Well,
well, Longbottom! You shall indeed be
well protected. And I'm not even
wearing that flowered hat!"
Neville
blushed with embarrassment at this, and his patronus shimmered and faded into
the tip of his wand.
"Well
done, Longbottom! Whatever you had in
mind when you summoned forth this… apparition," Snape continued. "Be
sure to use that image again. Your
patronus was extremely clear, for your first summons."
Neville
blushed even deeper as he recalled a petite red-haired girl with freckles
across the bridge of her nose.
Snape
turned his attention to Hermione. "Now, Miss Granger, I want you to try again. This time, focus your mind entirely
on your image - see it clearly, in detail, as if you could simply reach out and
touch it."
Hermione
took a deep breath and caught Ron's eye. He smiled at her, as if he knew it was his face she was seeing when she
closed her eyes. She pictured his
freckles, his sapphire blue eyes looking longingly into hers, the way they had
when he had kissed her that first night, in the hallway of the Burrow…
She
felt a throbbing in her head, down her spine, which hummed along her arm and
out through her fingertips to her wand. Opening her eyes, she beheld a golden figure, which turned to her and…
smiled.
The
features of its face were blurry, as was the body, but she could distinctly see
the smile. It was holding something in
its right hand, leaning on it…
"Gosh,
it's an old man!" exclaimed Parvati Patil, who seemed to find it amusing
that the talented Hermione Granger would have a senior citizen as a patronus.
Severus
Snape did not share her amusement. "Concentrate, Miss Granger! Focus harder on the image in your mind's eye…"
Hermione
concentrated as hard as she could; the features started to define themselves, a
little more…
A
gasp startled her and the patronus faded instantly back into the tip of her
wand. Harry Potter looked pale, his
hands over his mouth.
"What
is it, Potter?" snapped Snape irritably.
Harry's
eyes stared vacantly into Snape's, but the bell interrupted his response.
"Class
dismissed." Snape said flatly, continuing to stare at Potter. As the Griffindors shuffled off to
Transfiguration, Hermione shook Harry by the arm. "Harry, what's wrong?"
He
had recovered himself somewhat. "N… nothing… It's just that… that face… I've seen it before…"
"Where,
Potter?" asked Snape, coming forward to them. "Where have you seen him before?"
Harry,
looking ashen, turned to Snape. "He was in a dream I had, before I came to Hogwarts last year, and…
he was there! That night I… when
Voldemort…priori incantatem…" he could not finish. Hermione put her arm around his shoulders,
feeling awful that her patronus seemed to horrify her best friend.
Snape
looked at them for a long moment, then broke the silence with a simple,
"Off to your next class, before Professor McGonagall comes looking for
you."
The
three friends obeyed. Severus Snape
waited until they had disappeared down the hall, then made his own way to the
office of Albus Dumbledore. He, too,
was troubled by Hermione's patronus. He
had seen that cane, leaning against the mantelpiece last evening, on his
frightful visit to Voldemort's parlor in the decaying Riddle House.
Transfiguration
is going to be a beast this year! Harry
thought, as Professor McGonagall distributed outlines for their
coursework. Rats into roosters then
rabbits, pillows into poleviks, rain into fire and back again (that would be a
treat with Neville about!)… The list seemed endless! Just as they were getting started with their rats, a knock came
at the door. It was little Dennis
Creevey, who brought a message that Albus Dumbledore wanted to see the
professor immediately. As there were
only a few moments until the lunch bell, Professor McGonagall dismissed them
and made her way down the winding corridor to Dumbledore's tower.
"What
do you make of that?" asked Hermione, gathering her books and patting her
rat as she replaced it with the others.
Harry
shrugged. "Don't know, but I can't
help but wonder if it has something to do with… well, with how stupid I acted
back there, in Dark Arts class…"
"Harry."
Hermione took his hand, gently but firmly. "You didn't act stupid. If
I had seen the face of a… a dead man again, I would have fainted right
away!"
They
looked about for Ron, but found he and Neville had already left, so they made
their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione began, hesitantly, lest she disturb her friend again. "Harry, can you tell me… I mean, do you
know who he is… was?"
Harry
shook his head. "I don't really
know, Hermione… He was in that dream I had, remember, last year? When my scar hurt? And then, during that duel, when my wand locked with Voldemort's…
people, that is, ghosts… started to come out of Voldemort's wand. He was one of them, I'm sure
of it!"
"How
strange…" murmured Hermione as she took her seat beside Ginny. "I don't understand…"
Fred
and George, who wanted to set up Quidditch practice for the week, waylaid Harry
to assure his attendance.
Hermione
and Ginny chatted about the upcoming Halloween Ball; Ginny was dismayed by the
fact that she would not be able to come up with much of a costume. "We just don't have the money,
Hermione! I can't ask Mum and
Dad for it…"
The
subject of money and the Weasleys always distressed Hermione. She had more than enough from her own
parents, but knew she would insult her friend by offering. Suddenly, her eyes lit up like tiny lamps.
"Ginny! I've got the best
idea! What are you doing tonight, after
dinner?"
"Just
studying, Hermione. Why?"
"Meet
me in the Common Room right after supper - I've got… oh, wait 'til I tell
you! It's perfect!"
She
was interrupted by a shadow that fell over her plate. Turning, she looked up to see Draco Malfoy, leaning over the
empty chair beside Hermione. As usual,
he was sneering at her. "I hear
you've got an old man for a guardian, Granger! You're gonna need more protection than that…" he leaned in until
his lips were very close to her ear, "…from me…" he added menacingly.
Suddenly
Malfoy withdrew as if on springs. Looking up, Hermione saw the reason; Harry had yanked Malfoy back by his
robes and pushed him aside. "She's
got me, Malfoy, so clear out!"
As
Harry took the chair on which Malfoy had leaned, Draco regarded him as if he
would like to hex him into the next century but, when he realized their
encounter had attracted some faculty attention, he withdrew with a mutter.
Harry
turned to Hermione. "You
okay?"
She
sighed. "Yeah, I'm allright. I just wish he'd leave me alone,
Harry! He's going a long way to prove
his hatred of Mudbloods, don't you think?"
Harry
shook his head. For someone so
intelligent, Hermione could be a bit dim sometimes. "I don't think that's quite it, Hermione. I think, in his warped way, he's really
trying to… flirt with you."
Hermione
looked at Harry like he'd grown antenna. "Don't be ridiculous! He hates
me!"
Harry
shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't think it's quite that simple
anymore…"
Sighing,
Hermione pushed her plate away. She
wasn't very hungry now. "Nothing
is, is it? I mean, everything seems to
be… harder this year, don't you think? Like, our lessons mean more than they used to…"
Harry
nodded. "With O.W.L.s coming up, I
guess so…"
She
shook her head. "No, Harry, it's
more than O.W.L.s. It's, well, I think you
know…" her deep brown eyes locked with his green ones meaningfully. "It's like, we're really going to need
what we're learning now…"
Harry
pushed his own plate back. "Yeah. You're right. I guess we should have expected this,
since…Voldemort has been… restored."
Neither
friend spoke for a moment. At last,
Hermione turned to Harry. "Let's
go visit Hagrid. Maybe he has some more
animals - that should cheer us up!"
He
agreed and they grabbed Ron on their way out. "Where've you been?" Harry asked. "You missed lunch!"
He
looked evasive. "No, I grabbed
something quick before I… well, Neville wanted to talk to me for a sec…"
Hermione
and Harry exchanged curious glances. "Neville?" they asked in unison.
Ron
looked down at the floor. "Yeah,
he just… well, he needed some advice."
"About?"
asked Hermione, taking his arm and steering them in the direction of Hagrid's
cabin.
"I…
I really can't say, Hermione. It's
personal, to Neville…"
She
shrugged and Harry, on her other side, fell into step as they headed down the
sloping green lawn. Neville's business
was his own, after all, but why share it with Ron?
While
the "threesome" made their way to Hagrid's, Severus Snape and Minerva
McGonagall sat, once again, in the office of Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore
leaned toward them, his bearded chin resting on his fist. "Are you certain, Severus?"
Severus,
eyes bright, nodded. "Yes,"
he answered firmly. "I am
positive. Miss Granger's patronus held
that very cane I have described to you, the one leaning against the mantelpiece
at the old house. It was most
distinctive, a gnarled piece of wood. It seemed to me… odd… that he should have such a walking stick beside
his chair; when I have seen him rise and walk, he is most robust. Surely he would not need such a thing."
Dumbledore
shook his head. "To walk,
certainly not. But perhaps it has some
other value? A trophy, perhaps?"
Minerva
looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "A trophy, of one of his victims? How repulsive…"
Dumbledore
sighed. Professor McGonagall always
seemed surprised by the atrocities of which Voldemort was capable. He envied her this; the levels to which
their enemy could and would stoop never shocked him. Indeed, he had come to expect them. "Severus, it is vital to continue your instructions. Push them, hard; they must be prepared, for
whatever may come…" He turned to
McGonagall. "Minerva, ask Madam
Pince to pull together all she can about the Riddle House - its history and
the… murders. All of them."
"But
sir, that means…"
"Muggle
newspapers, Minerva. She is a
librarian, after all; she supplies research materials. If she is unable to do so, I'm sure the
Ministry in London can help us..."
"Sir! Surely you will not ask Cornelius Fudge
to…"
Albus
Dumbledore looked grim. "No, not
Fudge. I believe I will consult with
Arthur Weasley on this matter - he has always kept apprised of the Muggle
news. And Minerva?"
She
turned at the doorway. "Yes,
Albus?"
"Bring
me Miss Granger's file, please."
To
be continued, of course…
*Many
thanks to the wonderful "Encyclopaedia Potterica", brought to you by
the Unofficial Harry Potter Fan Club, for this definition. If you haven't seen it, check it out -
terrific site, with great illustrations! http://www.geocities.com/harrypotterfans/