Rose seems to materialize out of nowhere. She launches herself against Albus, who groans weakly as he fails to brace himself for impact.
"What the hell did you leave like that for!"
"Rose, my ribs, dear god," Albus murmurs.
She shakes her head. "And you," she turns to Scorpius, still hanging off Albus like he may disappear again. "Thank god you're all right. I was looking for you both everywhere when I heard you woke up."
"Oh," Scorpius says.
"Albus, what have you done with your hair? You look so old." Rose steps onto her tiptoes, then runs her fingers through until strands become loose and hang over his forehead again. She hugs him around his neck, and Albus lifts her for a moment before wincing and placing her gently down again. "What are you two wearing? You look like you just got back from a—. . . Oh."
"Where's Kiara?" Albus asks, looking over Rose's head. "Have you seen her?"
"She's been catching up on sleep. Callie told me that Kiara hasn't slept through the night since last month."
"I'm going to look for her. She wasn't well when we last spoke. She would only speak to me in french, and I don't think she even realized. Rose, why don't you walk Scorpius back to the infirmary for me? Nurse Abbott says he should spend some more time there, so she can heal the rest of his wounds."
Scorpius stares at him. "I remember her saying the same of you."
Albus waves him off, his fingers glancing across his ribcage. "I'll meet you there later."
He begins to walk toward the Ravenclaw tower, and Scorpius thinks he may be off to tell the girl how he really feels for her. Part of him hopes so—and the other part of him wonders if he could beat Albus to it.
But then he looks to Rose, and he nearly forgets who Kiara is. She holds her small hand out to him, and he takes her fingers tentatively within his grasp, dwarfing the small girl with his height and large hand. He remembers this feeling: Holding Rose and thinking everything is OK because of it. Just her presence makes him smell warm sunlight on dewy grass, and he can taste fresh strawberries across his tongue.
"My other arm doesn't work right," he says, because he can't think of anything else.
"I heard. Nurse Abbott wants to put it in a sling for now. It'll be fine soon, you know. If you go to London. What happened to your other hand? You're bleeding?"
He nods. "It's all right. I want to go by the Slytherin House, first. Come with me. There's something I want to show you."
"Fine. But real quick. I hate the dungeons."
"Don't let go of me."
Rose scoffs. "I don't need you like that, Cory."
She pulls her hand away, but he holds tight and interlocks his fingers with hers. Her full lips part and her eyebrows furrow together, confused.
"Cory—?"
"I do," Scorpius says simply, in a hushed voice.
Rose blinks at him. But she closes her hand around his, and he's grateful that he doesn't need to explain himself, when he's not entirely certain anyway.
They walk quietly to the dungeons. Rose wraps her robes tighter around her body as the chill permeates through their skin, and she shivers. She tucks her hair behind her ears, and Scorpius, after he says the password to get into the Slytherin common room, stares at the charms on her delicate hoops. He's been caught looking at her, but he doesn't turn away.
"Do they mean anything?"
"Yeah, a bit, I guess," Rose replies, blushing slightly. The charms tremor and tinkle like little bells, into the darkness of the stairwell. "Well?"
He guides her down, still holding tight to her warm hand. When they push through the door to the common room, Rose exhales and seems to relax in the light of the fireplace. Jamie Button wakes from a midday nap and trots happily to their feet, complaining loudly until Scorpius picks the three-legged white cat up and snuggles her against his chest. He asks Rose to wait, and she sits in front of the fire on one of the emerald green circular cushions on the floor. Her boots are tucked neatly under her. She leans into the warmth in the same way that Jamie Button leans into Scorpius.
For a moment he gazes upon her, watching as the light flickers across her soft skin and copper hair.
Then he travels down a corridor to the boys' dormitories. It doesn't go unnoticed that Henry's chest is open and empty, and his bed is stripped of its sheets and pillows. From his own chest, he pulls out the glass jar that his father had collected the ashes of his drawings in, four years ago. He holds it gingerly in his hands.
The heat of the moment overwhelms him.
He considers if he's making a mistake, then meets Rose back in the common room.
"Where is Henry?" he asks first.
"Oh, geez," Rose says tentatively. "I didn't want to be the person who had to tell you. . . . Henry was expelled. Emmalee, too."
"In the last month of their last year? Why?"
Rose wiggles her nose and looks at her clear manicure. Then she begins to chew on her thumbnail, an old habit she has struggled to kick over the years. It fills Scorpius with comfort, to see that she has still held onto parts of herself that he remembers. Remaining silent, Rose reaches out for the squirming Jamie Button and kisses her ears before setting her down. Jamie Button begins to purr loudly, and settles comfortably next to Rose. Scorpius has a heaviness in his heart. He wonders if Jamie Button has missed Rose as much as he has.
"Emmalee and Henry were responsible for what happened to you," she finally says. "They cursed your broom and set off the fireworks. I believe them when they said it got out of their hands, and that they didn't mean for it to get as bad as it did. . . . But they endangered a lot of people's lives. They almost killed you and Albus. So McGonagall expelled them."
"Oh," Scorpius responds hollowly.
"I'm so sorry, Cory. I know you really cared for both of them."
"It's all right. Er . . . Thanks for telling me. Forget about it."
I'll just add it to the list, he thinks.
He sits on another cushion and faces Rose, leaning between his knees to place the jar in front of her like she's supposed to know exactly what it is. He wraps his good arm around his shins and rests his chest against his thighs, waiting. Scorpius isn't sure what to do now, having not thought this far ahead, so he just lets the silence settle comfortably around them and hopes for Rose to say something.
She takes the jar up in her hands. It looks even more monumental in her small hands, but it takes a weight off his shoulders that he didn't know was there. She shakes it gently back and forth, then wrinkles her nose.
"Please tell me this isn't a shitty urn with a dead person in it." Rose blushes when she realizes what she's said, paired with the fact that Scorpius is still garbed in funeral clothes. "Oh, I mean—"
"Nah, it's not that. Don't worry about it. It's . . ."
Scorpius loosens his black tie as he says this, stalling so he can simmer on his thoughts. Too much time has passed now. He looks sheepishly at the fire, searching the flames for the things he wants to say. They flicker back, almost chastising him. With his grandfather dead, he can think for himself, now—but it's harder than he wants to admit.
Finally, he tells her honestly, "I'm trying to find a way to explain."
"Just tell me what this is. That would be a good explanation."
"Not just that," Scorpius insists. "I'm trying to find a way to explain what happened after third-year. When I—"
"Oh, no, Cory," Rose interrupts. "I don't want to talk about that."
His heart drops.
What had he really been expecting?
"Look," she continues. "I can forgive you enough to be friends. Albus has never stopped caring about you. Even if he and I have had our arguments, I know his heart is pure gold. And that must mean you're not all bad. But you . . . I mean, wow, Cory. You act so dense about the way you treated me, like I could possibly forget the things you said and did. You wanted to cut me out of your life? Well, you did a hell of a good job with it."
"I didn't want to," he says quietly. "I didn't want to at all."
"No, I get it. I'm a . . . Gosh, what was it, Cory?"
"I don't know, Rose," he replies, although he does. He's just ashamed.
"I'm a filthy mudblood, and you could never love someone who has no future value." His eyes flick up to hers, and she watches him carefully. "Yeah, I remember that. It's fine that you forgot. It's just not something someone like me forgets any time soon."
Scorpius cheeks burn. He's regretting this terribly. "I don't know what to say. It was a mistake. I'm so sorry."
"A mistake? A mistake isn't something that happens over and over for four years."
"It was a terrible mistake."
Rose suddenly stands, as if she's waking from a dream and can't believe she's sitting next to someone as terrible as he. Jamie Button looks up sleepily, her golden eyes only for Rose.
"You led me on for three years, Cory. You told me you were falling for me, and I told you . . ." She narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw. ". . . that I already had. Do you remember what happened next?"
"Of course I do. I kissed you, Rose."
"Yeah, you kissed me. You kissed me like you loved me. But then you fucked off for the summer, completely ignored my letters, and came back an entirely different person who couldn't even stand the sight of me. Tell me how you could possibly explain all of that away."
"I . . ."
She shakes her head. "That's just it, Cory. You can't."
Scorpius says nothing, his fingers trailing circles around the jar. She points to it.
"And how the hell was a jar of ashes supposed to make it better, by the way?"
She snatches it from his hands, driven by the momentum of her anger, and flicks the lid off before dumping the contents on the floor. Scorpius freezes, feeling she's gone too far yet also wondering if there is a punishment enough to make up for everything he's done. His heart pounds in his throat and he opens and closes his mouth like a drowning fish, leaning over the pile protectively. His father told him that one day these ashes would make him stronger—but he doesn't feel that way at all. If anything, it's made him more vulnerable.
"Move aside, Cory," she snarls at him, and he does. Rose points her wand at the pile and fiercely incants, "Cinis Epoximise!"
He's never heard the spell before. Whatever it is, nothing happens. Rose's cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she sits beside the pile and pushes the pieces together closer with the side of her index finger.
"What . . . What is that?"
She glares at him. "Do you remember how you let your girlfriend Emmalee burn my schoolwork? My mother helped me invent a spell to put it back together. It saved me hours and hours of redoing my assignments. If only I'd told her sooner. God, I can't believe I fell for that Emmalee bitch's fake apologies."
"I can't, either," Scorpius agrees weakly, but she glares at him.
"I'm not making the mistake twice."
Rose takes a deep breath. She stares at the pile of ashes and points her wand at the mess once more. "Cinis Epoximise," she says again, but it sounds different, and more powerful.
The ashes begin to stir. Scorpius lurches back as the dust spirals together in a small tornado before Rose, who sits patiently with a storm brewing in her own eyes. Sparks fly inward, and light comes out in snatches. In moments, everything settles. Between them sits a pile of old drawings Scorpius thought he'd never see again, and a book by an F. Scott Fitzgerald, titled, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
Her lip quivers.
"What is this, Cory? Did you . . . draw these?"
Scorpius, who hadn't expected this at all, says the first thing that comes to mind: "Lucius found out about how I felt for you. I wasn't the same person after that day, you're right. Not anymore."
"What did he do, Cory?" she breathes, her hands trembling.
He can't answer her. He's just barely watched Lucius be lowered into the ground. What the man did is as bewildering to him as it would be to anyone who hears about it. His first three years at Hogwarts were blissful and carefree. He thought he was safe, but Lucius had eyes everywhere. How can he explain any of this?
So Scorpius just stares at her.
Rose looks at his lips, and—self-conscious of her realization—he turns away.
"That scar wasn't there the first three years. Your grandfather?"
He thinks of the other scars on his body, when there was no magic healer to fade them.
"Cory . . . When you Apparated in the Great Hall, were you splinched?"
"No."
"Was that . . . ?"
Scorpius says and does nothing.
"My god, Cory."
"He implied things would happen." He pauses when his voice cracks, and he takes a moment to collect himself. "I did everything I could to make sure you'd avoid me for good."
"Yeah, you did," Rose says, but her tone sounds flustered.
She vaguely picks up the Muggle book and flips to the first page, not appearing especially interested but looking for something to do with her hands. Albus's awful script barely reads across the title page:
'It is a pity that the best part of life
comes at the beginning—
and the worst part at the end.'
Everything will change, Scorpius.
For better or for worse.
Take it in stride. As gracefully as you can.
Albus
Rose puts the book down, frowning, and now picks through the papers gently. She takes some up in her hands and stares intently at the incredible detail. Scorpius stops breathing and wishes he could get inside her head and hear her honest thoughts. He's never shared his work with anyone, besides unknowingly to the 'little bird' that Kiara hinted toward—whom he's beginning to suspect was Albus.
"I had no idea how talented you are, Cory. Why didn't you ever tell me this?"
Of course he doesn't know what to say to her. There isn't a way to put years and years of emotional trauma and physical abuse into a few sentences, so he hasn't even attempted to do so.
Rose moves on.
Surprisingly, he's—for once—glad he isn't with Albus or Kiara right now. Rose takes information in patiently, and at face value. She needs no explanation if she sees the humanity in him. This gives him time to process trauma at his own pace. Whereas Albus or Kiara would force him to face the truth as it is and accept it right in the moment. Albus and Kiara are constantly trying to understand equations without having a solution: It's the pieces and progress that interest them; not the destination and outcome.
Scorpius just wants to feel OK. And Rose makes him feel OK.
"These are stunning. Did you use magic?"
"No," he tells her.
"I can hardly believe it. You did a lot of bizarre self-portraits. Do you still?"
"Not so much," he lies, thinking of the Ashwinder serpent he drew around his throat months ago, before tossing it in the flames along with his mother's Christmas invitation.
"I can't imagine what must have been going through your mind."
Scorpius remembers each drawing as it resurfaces. There's a hippogriff he drew when he was eleven, with its talons through his own head as it flies from the Gryffindor lion statue. And a billywig, that pierces into his ink hand—and the young Scorpius has a giddy expression drawn for his face, although he was in deep conflict when he drew it. There's Hiccup, his family's house-elf, with a familiar hand-knit scarf wrapped proudly around its neck. Rose brushes her fingers gently over the dried lines and cross-hatch, lingering on his modest signature.
"That's the scarf I knit you," she says.
"It is."
"I thought you'd thrown it out."
"You were supposed to think that. But I really did. I'm sorry."
"Um . . . Who is Hyperion?" she asks.
He hesitates, but tells her. "That's my middle name. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy."
"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," Rose repeats slowly. "Do you know my middle name?"
"Minerva."
Rose doesn't break her eye contact for a long time. Scorpius waits, uncertain which direction she'll go and not in any rush to find out. In this moment, he feels good just sitting here with her. Right now it's all he needs.
If the time he gets to spend with her is longer with silence, then he'll sew his own lips shut.
She looks down again, going through his drawings some more. Scorpius no longer cares what he created years ago. The boy that held that pen is so deep in the past, he barely remembers that part of himself, and the thoughts that young Scorpius had. He watches her expression carefully. It's when her mouth opens, and her eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink that he looks back at his old work.
"Oh, shit," he mutters.
"This is me. You drew . . . me?"
His face feels like it's on fire and he grabs the top paper from her hands, his neck itching with humiliation and his thoughts stumbling every time he tries to think of something to say. Now she's going to think he was a creep, and that he was obsessed with her—or an equally terrible thing. He'd completely forgotten about this drawing.
"Stop, Cory. I want to look at it."
He pauses. Rose reaches out and places one small hand on his knee, and the other on the pile of papers.
"Please."
Reluctantly, he gives it back to her.
"I remember this day," she says.
Rose smiles distantly as she looks over a sloppy sketch he had snuck by the Great Lake, during their second-year. He remembers it, too. The young Scorpius had just placed a daisy behind her ear, and she had looked radiant with the breeze passing through. Quickly, he'd drawn her between the pages of a textbook.
The sketch was wild and unkempt and beautiful,
and that was Rose.
"Rose," he says tentatively. He has her full attention. "I don't deserve a second chance. I know this, and I won't even ask. But I need you to know how I really felt about you back then. At least once."
She waits.
Scorpius licks his lips.
"Rose, I—"
The door to the common room flies open, and Albus stumbles in. His eyes look crazy as he searches the room, finally finding the pair of them. His lips part, but no words come out.
"Albus?" Rose says, concern lacing her voice. She stands and takes a step toward him. "Are you all right?"
"It's Kiara," he gasps, clutching his ribcage and catching his breath. "She's missing. And she was last seen heading toward the forest."
-o-o-o-
Kiara wakes reluctantly, still feeling groggy and uncoordinated. She presses her fingers against her head, and when she looks at them they're warm and slick with blood. Her body is splayed out over a large rock, and her clothes are torn to shreds as though she had walked straight through a patch of thorns.
She pushes her hand through a large tear in her shirt that starts above her breast and reaches down past her abdomen. Vaguely, she readjusts her bra and looks around with blurry vision.
On all sides of her are tall trees. The forest floor is dense with foliage. Strange flowers bloom around her as though they grew overnight along her silhouette. She brushes her bloody fingers across a peculiar blossom that appears to sneeze in response. It makes her smile.
With great effort, Kiara sits up. Her head spins, and she squeezes her eyes tight and takes shallow, slow breaths until she can focus again.
She thinks, for a moment, that she is home in Belgium. The trees are familiar: Lush beeches, and regal oaks. She recognizes their leaves, and the way they rustle in the breeze. Her eyelashes flutter together and she tilts her face up as speckles of dusklight filter through the thick canopy like she exists in a kaleidoscope. Her lips part and her eyebrows crease together.
Kiara is reminded of a warm summer day when she was young, and well before the accident. Another memory. She had been having a picnic with her mother and two little siblings by the water in Antwerp. The sudden memory makes her heart throb, and she calls out for her family.
"We're alone out here," a little voice says beside her.
The girl sits on the edge of the rock with her small Mary Janes hanging down and kicking. Kiara can only see the back of her, with long, brown hair in tangles down her shoulders, and her tiny hands on either side of her. The little girl, who has been following her around for days, is her.
"I am," she responds in french. "I know."
"We ought to try to find our way back."
Kiara stares out in every direction of the forest.
"You brought me out here. You can take me back."
The little girl turns to look at her. Her curious eyes probe Kiara's.
"The sun is dying," she says. "You thought you'd be safe out here. I followed you. You followed the Thestrals. And I don't have a clue how to get out."
Kiara touches her forehead again. The injury appears minor. It seems she may have passed out from exhaustion and simply collapsed onto the stone, cutting her forehead up a bit. Nothing else seems wrong, although she does begin to shiver in the cold.
"What's out here?" Kiara asks the little girl.
"You know: Good things. Bad things. And very bad things."
-o-o-o-
Albus leads the way as they trek in the dying sunlight toward the groundskeeper's little hut near the Forbidden Forest. Scorpius has heard strange stories of Rubeus Hagrid, but he has never seen the half-giant for himself.
Scorpius and Rose hang back as Albus knocks impatiently on the door of the rundown hut.
"Hagrid!" he calls. "It's me, Al!"
The door swings open, forcing Albus to jump back, and Scorpius cranes his neck up to look at the man's red face. It's buried under the mask of a wiry grey beard and long, frizzy hair. His eyes are warm and dark, like melting chocolate on a hot day—but they look faded and strange, and lack clarity. He's senile.
"Al," the half-giant rumbles cheerily. Scorpius can barely understand his thick, west country accent, and the best he can make out is: "It's good teh see yeh, my boy!"
"Albus? You've met already?" Rose asks faintly.
"Hagrid's a close friend of my dad's," Albus explains. "He's invited me for tea the first day of every year."
"All righ', all righ'," Hagrid replies, ushering them in.
He peers out his front door, first to the left, then the right, before shutting it tight behind him. They're plunged into a dim, candlelit darkness that feels full and comfortable. The half-giant has a heavy limp that clumps loudly around the hut as he finds his seat.
"What brings yeh here?"
Albus tells him what he knows, and Hagrid listens carefully. Scorpius can't help but stare, his hands wrapped around the hot mug of tea that Hagrid's poured for them, as he waits.
"Ah, well, yeah," Hagrid finally says. "I've seen the girl from a distance many nights. She likes to sit aroun' the lake an' watch the stars. I think she's interested in my Thestrals, too. An' they seem to like her quite a lot. She's a peculiar one."
"Kiara can see Thestrals?" Scorpius asks, incredulous.
Hagrid nods. "Well, I'd assume so, the way she stares in-teh the fores' all the time. Yeh never seen one?"
"No," Scorpius says, and Rose and Albus shake their heads as well.
"Well, the lot o' yeh are lucky, then. The girl has seen death."
"Will the Thestrals keep her safe?" Rose asks.
"Eh, it depends, teh be honest."
Hagrid begins to mumble something to himself, his eyes glazing over as he speaks to the steam coming off his tea like it's an old companion. He slurps from the mug, then bites into a hard biscuit that Scorpius has been picking at for the past few minutes. All of Hagrid's vowels melt together, and the half-giant speaks only to himself.
"They're faster than her," he finally says coherently. "She wouldn't be able teh keep up. Especially with wha' Al is saying, that she seemed a lil' out of it. She'd really have teh keep her wits about her, and be a powerful witch at tha'—"
"She is," Scorpius interrupts. "She's very powerful."
"Well . . . She may be all righ', then."
"Can't you go in there?" Rose asks him. "You're the groundskeeper. You know the forest better than anyone. Could you find her?"
"Do yeh have eyes, my dear? I'm old, an' I know it shows. I can't be runnin' in-teh the forest like I used teh. I wouldn' go out there anymore without broad daylight and a Patronus, yeh understand? Al, have you mastered that one, yet?"
"No," Albus replies. "Not yet."
Hagrid mutters more things under his breath that are beyond translation. They barely hear him when he says, "Someday yeh'll just get it, Al. Don't be discouraged." Then Hagrid tells himself a story.
Scorpius begins to wonder why they're even here.
"What do you think I may be missing?" Albus asks him desperately. "From your experience watching others learn, Hagrid. . . . Where's the gap? Why can't I cast my Patronus?"
Hagrid looks upon the boy thoughtfully.
"Yeh have a lot of passion, Al," Hagrid says. "But I reckon yeh lack purpose. Maybe we can convince someone with a Patronus teh come in the morning with me. Maybe Neville, or Professor McGonagall, or—"
"She may not have until morning," Scorpius argues, deciding they don't have time to listen to Hagrid idly rattle off a dozen different names.
Albus stands abruptly and walks out. The door slams against the hut and stands wide open, and Hagrid follows him with some gruff, muffled exclamations about the lack of consideration for an old man. Scorpius and Rose, shocked by Albus's outburst, stare at each other.
Hagrid shuffles back in and closes the door behind him.
"I think Al needs a moment teh himself," he says. "He's in love with the girl, isn't he?"
Rose looks at Scorpius, who nods. She raises her eyebrows but says nothing.
"Hagrid," Scorpius forces himself to ask. "What's in the forest?"
"I hate teh be crass," he mumbles. "It's very dangerous." He looks upon their faces and frowns. "All righ', listen. I'll do anythin' for a Potter, an' I can tell how he feels for the girl. But I won't go out there until the mornin'. It's too dangerous to find her when it's dark, with no protection. And my eyes aren't as sharp as they used teh be."
"But what if she doesn't make it through the night?" Rose pleads.
Hagrid looks away. "I'm sorry, my dear. But I don't think we'll be searching for her safe return."
Rose's eyes widen, and tears threaten to spill over her pale lashes.
"May we stay overnight?" Scorpius asks.
"I don' see why not, as long as yeh don't mind sleeping on the couch an' floor."
"You can't, Cory," Rose says fiercely. "You need to go back to the infirmary."
"One night isn't going to kill me."
Rose narrows her eyes. "Kiara is already in danger. Please don't put yourself in a position where I have to worry about both of you."
"She's right, yeh know," Hagrid says. "Yeh're bleeding through yeh shirt."
Scorpius looks down at his body and sees a wet spot rapidly spreading out across his black funeral clothing. It makes him feel a bit faint. In fact, it seems like more blood is coming out of him than should be normal. Rose gasps and grabs his shoulders as he sways.
"Cory, you need to get back now."
"Don' worry, dear," Hagrid says, standing tall and squaring his shoulders. "I can help the boy get back. An' tomorrow I'll be out in the forest at the crack o' dawn teh find the girl."
Rose falters. "OK," she finally says. "Thank you . . . Hagrid."
"Yeah, well. I wish I could do more for yeh."
Hagrid supports most of Scorpius's weight, who's suddenly seeing stars dancing across his vision. He feels Rose clutching his jacket sleeve, and they step out into the rising night.
At the edge of the forest, they see Albus in the very last drop of daylight. He's standing with his eyes closed, silhouetted gracefully against the dense forest shrubbery. A breeze rifles through his hair. A hush falls over the land, as though something is about to happen.
Albus's eyes snap open, and he looks different.
"Expecto Patronum."
A bright, piercing light flows like water from the tip of his wand and fills the darkness. It overwhelms Scorpius with love and hope. He stares upon the majestic creature conjured from magic.
Albus has found his Patronus.
As if made of shimmering white dust and shafts of starlight, the creature lifts its bony wings and stretches them wide. They shiver and flutter like a luna moth preparing for flight, seeming to engulf Albus with its luminosity. Its dragon-like skull, with its nostrils flaring, nuzzles against Albus's outstretched hand. Scorpius cannot read the peculiar expression on the boy's face.
Rose falls to her knees. Both her small hands cover her gaping mouth. If Scorpius was standing on his own, he knows he would have bowed down as well.
"Wow," Hagrid says, his eyes twinkling proudly. "Tha' there is a Thestral."
Albus looks to them once, then turns and walks straight into the thick of the forest. Rose screams at him, lunging forward, but the half-giant grabs her by the back of her sweater and holds fast. She fights and pulls and shouts, but she is no match for Hagrid, who aims to protect those he can. It isn't long until they see the brightness of Albus's Patronus snuffed out by the darkness of the woods.
The sky is cloudy now.
There are no stars.