SURPRISE. As a thank-you for the overwhelming love this story has recieved, a good 500 following and over 300 favorites + reviews worth of it, I decided to update early. One of the things I was nervous for 3rd year was the Patronus memory. In canon, I totally understand why he used that memory. Here, though, I wasn't too sure since Harry did have 7 years worth of memory with James and Lily. Thankfully LittleNightDragon helped me figured out what to do. Hope you like it.

Chapter 22: A Lightness in The Dark

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN BLOODY MIND, POTTER?!"

Harry rolled his eyes, perched on their bed, as the blond dragon paced back and forth in their room, smoke practically sprouting from his nostrils, his ears. Harry was sure if Draco knew wandless magic, the room would possibly be torched.

"Then again, this is you we're talking about. Stupidity is practically embedded in your DNA."

Harry rolled his eyes.

When he figured out who sent him the firebolt, he-well, he'd like to say that he immediately turned it over to the authorities when, in reality, he shoved the broom into his suitcase, piling clothes and clothes on top of it until it was hidden from sight, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to alert Uncle Lucius, to firecall Minister Fudge, to turn it over to the Ministry. He meant to take it out later, once he'd figure out what his next move was, but soon forgotten the firebolt as the aftermath of Christmas crept in. Spending time with his friends at the Burrow, hanging out with Pansy in her family house in Germany. He didn't even remember the broom until they were back at school and saw that it was sitting on his bed, taken out by the house-elf handling their bags.

"What the hell is that?" Draco demanded.

"A broom." Harry weakly replied.

The look in Draco's eyes could be summed up in one word: deadly. You even think about trying to talk your way out of this, his glare said. I will end you.

With a heavy sigh, Harry sealed the door with a silencing spell, sat Draco down, and told his best friend everything. It took two minutes to explain. It only took a good five seonds for Draco to explode, shooting from the bed and cursing Harry viciously.

"You goddamn idiot!"

Though the ranting rage was expected, it didn't spare Harry's eardrum from nearly shattering.

When he was sure Draco's anger cooled down, Harry rose from the bed and took slow steps over to him, careful to keep some distance between them. He was proud of himself for not flinching when Draco's glare zeroed in on him. "Look, I know it's a big risk-"

"That's an understatement." Draco snapped.

Harry continued on, saying, "But I couldn't turn it in. Or get rid of it. I know it sounds crazy but I just couldn't."

Draco stared at him, dumbfounded. "Let me get this straight. A mad criminal who's been on the Auror hit-list for six years, murdered fourteen people, nearly took out an entire Egyptian flee market, broke into the school and shredded the Gryffindorks' gate-keeper, delivers you a broom that could be hexed with dark magic or a tracking spell and yet for some incredibly, unbelievably idiotic reason you decide to keep it?!"

"I..." There was no other answer, no other explanation he could offer beside a muttered, "Yes."

Draco nodded once. "Well, congratulations, Potter. You are officially the most idiotic git I ever met in my life. And considering the brainless weasels, insects, and cockroaches I'm forced to deal with on a regular basis, that is truly saying something."

Harry scowled, irritated at Draco but even more so for himself since he knew his friend had a good point. It did sound stupid-and incredibly reckless and idiotic. But even so…Sirius' words that were planted into the pet dog resurfaced in his head, claiming there was more to the story, that everything was not as it seemed. Harry rarely hid things from Draco just as Draco rarely hid things from him, yet he hadn't breathed a word to his best friend about the thread of doubt unraveling through his heart regarding Sirius. The evidence was so clear though: Sirius left shortly after his parents were killed, had been hiding from the Aurors for years, nearly killed dozens of people including Ron the summer before third year, and broke into the school. All signs that pointed to a mad criminal. And yet, despite the clear evidence, despite the clear facts piling against him, Harry couldn't stop the thread from unraveling.

He didn't dare tell Draco though. If he even expressed a breath of doubt, Draco would have him sent to Madame Pomfey to have his head checked and stay for observation.

Maybe you should consider that, a voice whispered in his head. Harry ignored it and focused on Draco who was returning Harry's scowl with his own. "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

Draco arched a sharp brow, his scowl tightening. "Do I look like Granger to you? A kiss-up, irritating snitch with too much time on my hands?"

Deciding to let that be his answer, Harry fired another question. "Do you trust me?"

Fury cleared from Draco's eyes as surprise charged right in, causing his eyes to widen before he blinked them. "What kind of question is that?"

"Do you trust me?"

As irritated as Draco may be, as furious as he was over the ordeal, there was no moment of hesitation as he gave his answer. "Yes."

"Then please just trust me now," Harry pleaded with his old friend. "I-I can't explain it, Draco, but I know what I'm doing. I have a gut feeling about this."

Following their instincts was a lesson Severus drilled into their heads from the time they were seven. When all else failed, instinct never did. It was the most vital tool for a wizard, even more so than a wand. And right now it was an unfair card Harry played that Draco couldn't beat.

Cursing under his breath, Draco's eyes floated up to the ceiling, staring at it as if it could answer his questions, and finally sighed.

"The second your gut says something differently or my instincts kick in, we're burning that damned thing. Along with the dog."

Harry was so relieved he could have grabbed Draco's face and kissed him right there, but, his cheeks burning from the last time, decided against it and settled with a handshake instead. "Deal."

Thursday evening after finishing Ancient Runes homework with Theo in the Slytherin common room, Harry headed towards the History of Magic classroom where Remus was setting up the anti-dementor lesson. The room was dark and empty, saved for the lamps that were lit. Remus was already there waiting, leaning against a dark trunk.

"We will be practicing with a dementor-boggart instead. Fair warning, pup, it's pretty nasty though nowhere as bad as the real thing."

That was more than fine with Harry, remembering how the creature had him trapped simply by drawing breath.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" Remus asked. "This is very advanced magic."

"I'm sure." Harry set his bag by the door and walked over to him. "What exactly is the spell?"

"It is known as the Patronus Charm. It acts as a shield between you and the dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force. In order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. And not just any memory, but a happy memory, a very powerful one."

So a good memory was the key between him and the dementors? And a happy one? The question was which memories would work. He had good memories at school, with the expectation of doing homework and taking tests. He had good memories with his friends at Hogsmeade, the Burrow, the Manor, with Draco.

An image popped into his head. Being high in the air on his broom, so close to the stars that he was nearly touching them. Draco by his side, his friend's laughter ringing in the air, as they raced each other on their brooms, zooming through Harry's backyard.

"Have you picked a good memory?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded, replaying that image. Him and Draco, six years old, a good fifty feet from the ground, the wind kissing their faces and blowing through their hair.

"Good. Now close your eyes." Remus waited until Harry complied, shutting his eyes tight. "Allow the memory to fill you up. Lose yourself in it. Then speak the incantation, Expecto Patronum."

"Expecto Patronum." Harry repeated. When Remus's footsteps grew faint, Harry opened his eyes. The professor stood by the trunk. Harry took out his wand and stood in the middle of the classroom.

"Ready?" Remus asked.

"Ready."

Remus opened the trunk. The room became icy cold, the lights from the lamps blown out, casting the room in darkness. The dementor glided forward, drawing its' breath, one decayed hand reaching for Harry-

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled. "Expecto Pantroum! Excep…"

White fog obscured his senses…big, blurred shapes were moving around him….a man's voice broke through the fog, panicking, shouting.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off."

Sounds were going off: someone stumbling from a room-a door bursting open-a cackle of high-pitched laughter drowning out pained screaming.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Remus was tapping his cheeks hard, pulling him back from the dark veil. It took a good minute for Harry to realize he was on his back, lying on the dusty floor.

"I heard Dad." Harry mumbled. "He tried to take on Voldemort so Mum and I could escape. He-"

Tears he didn't even realize he was shedding rolled down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat plastered on his face. Harry hastily wiped them away with his sleeve. Remus laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a minute to compose himself.

"I'm so sorry you had to experience that, Harry."

He looked up, stunned by the raw grief that filled the man's eyes, grief he knew matched his own.

"We can try again later if you'd-"

"No!" Harry said. "I have to get this."

Remus looked like he wanted to refuse but gave in with a weak nod. "Very well."

Harry shakily stood on his feet and conjured up that memory again. He focused on the amazement he felt when Draco took off into the sky, going much higher than their old toy brooms allowed them to. How fear coiled tightly in his stomach as he mounted his own broom, slowly disintegrating as he rose higher and higher. How excited he was when he looked down, seeing how high they were, and it dawned to him that they were on brooms. Actual brooms.

"Alright, Harry." Remus called. "Are you ready? One, two, three-go!"

The trunk popped open and the dementor rose. Ice clung onto him like a cloak, searing through his skin, gripping his heart tightly like a fist.

"Expecto Pantroum! Expecto Patronum! Expect…to…"

His dad's final words and his mum's screams echoed in his head, bounding throughout his skull. Harry woken up to find that he was sprawled on the floor.

"Pup, it's alright if you want to rest. You'll need your energy-"

"Remus," Harry looked directly into his eyes. "I need to do this."

Remus sighed heavily. "Alright, if you're sure." He helped Harry sat up and sat down beside him. "I am curious, Harry. What memory did you choose?"

"The first time I ever rode a broom."

A soft smile curved Remus's lips. "A pleasant memory but still not strong. Not nearly as strong enough."

"But I thought you said it had to be a happy memory?" Harry asked.

"It does but it also should be powerful."

Powerful? Harry wracked his mind. He had nice memories, definitely happy ones, but a powerful one? He wasn't too sure about that one. After all, what qualified as a powerful memory? When he, Draco, and Ron raced through the secret corridor in the girls' room last year to save Ginny? When he faced off against Voldemort who was speaking through the back of Quirrell's head? They might be powerful but they certainly weren't pleasant. The reason why he had chosen the broom one was because that was one of the few memories from childhood he remembered, before when his life was simple, before Voldemort came in and tainted everything like a leech, before when his parents were alive.

He tried to expand on that memory focusing on the aftermath. How terrified and helpless he felt when Draco fallen off his broom, bruising his knee so severely, blood gushed from the wound. How fearful he was when his parents caught them, his dad hopping on one foot as he tried to slip the other shoe on, a frown pinching his mum's face as she took in the damaged brooms that were supposed to be inside, wrapped in their boxes, and meant to be opened later. How he held Draco tight after Mum healed his knee. How they woken up hours later to the lightening storm raging outside.

It was raining so hard, it was like fists were slamming against the window, trying to break in.

"There you boys are." Daddy didn't seem that surprised to find them huddled together in Harry's closet. In fact he seemed amused, kneeling before them, a gentle smile on his face. The boys, though, didn't break their hold on each other, even after the closet doors flung open and they saw it was him instead of a monster. "Not a fan of lightening, I see."

Draco whimpered as thunder banged against the house, igniting the air like a madman's laughter. Harry bit his lip, as a roll of lightening unfolded, just as loud as thunder. He didn't trust himself to speak. He couldn't open his eyes, feeling them swimming in tears, struggling to keep them in.

He shouldn't be scared like a little kid. He was James Potter's son. He should be as brave and fearless like him.

"It's alright to be scared, boys." Harry shook his head. No, no it wasn't alright. He opened his eyes as he felt a hand run through his hair. Daddy pulled him onto his lap while he held Draco close to his side. "I'll let you in on a secret." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I get scared too sometimes."

Harry looked up at him, stunned. His daddy? Scared? "But you're brave. You fight the bad guys."

"And before and after each time, I'm scared out of my wits." he clarified with a chuckle. "But I discovered the secret to facing fear."

"What's that?" Draco asked for him.

"Looking fear right in the eye and telling yourself this: You may be strong, fear, but I'm stronger. Stronger, and incredibly more good-looking."

Harry released his bottom lip and felt a smile lifting it.

"And," Mummy appeared by Daddy's side and tickled his stomach, stealing him from Daddy's lap and placing him on hers. Draco took his former spot, making himself right at home on Daddy's lap. "realizing that the secret behind that strength is love." She stroked his cheek. "Recognizing that it makes you fight harder, be braver. And that is never goes away."

"Really?" Harry asked. "But what if the person who loves you leaves? Like when they die?"

Mummy smiled at him. "That love still remains. Even if one day, Harry, your Daddy and I are gone, we'll always be around. Right," She placed her hand against his chest, where his heart was pulsing underneath her fingertips. "here."

Harry's eyes snapped open. "I-I think I may have something."

Remus nodded and went over to the trunk. Harry rose from the ground and took out his wand.

When the dementor came out again, Harry gripped onto the memory with all his might, as if it was his lifeline, focusing on his dad's comforting words, his mum's gentle smile. The advice about bravery and love being the secret strength behind it.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he screamed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The screaming inside Harry's head started again, except this time it sounded like static, blaring from a badly-turned radio, going soft then loud and back again. He could make out the dementor. The hooded spirit charged towards him. Before it could touch him, a huge, silvery shadow burst from the end of Harry's wand, hovering between him and the dementor, pushing it further and further away until it retreated back into the trunk.

When the dementor was finally gone, Harry sank to his knees, feeling winded as if he just completed a fifty-mile marathon. His ears were ringing so loudly, he could barely hear Remus.

"Well done, Harry! Well done!"

"T-thanks." he stammered.

"Here, eat this. It will help." Remus sat beside him and handed him a chocolate frog. Harry accepted the treat, taking small bites around the corners. "And just so you know, Harry, I think you would have given your father a run for his money. And that is truly saying something."

"I guess Dad was a bit of a troublemaker."

"The stories I could tell you, pup," Remus shook his head, amused. "We would be in here for hours if I recapped James Potter's greatest hits."

Harry smiled, but then the smile withered away as his mind went back to the memory he used. His dad's face that was so much like his, it was like looking into a mirror. His mother gorgeous with her dark red hair and green-green eyes, the only physical trait Harry inherited from her. "I was thinking about him actually," Harry confessed. "And Mum."

Remus smiled softly as he rubbed his shoulder. "The dead never leave us, Harry, not truly. You be sure to remember that."

"I know-" He was interrupted as a flowery scent brushed against his nose. The same one billowing from the goblet Severus brought over to Remus's office. The same one sprinkled onto Pansy's skin at the ball.

"Aconitum. Supposedly, it's meant to protect the wearer from evil."

"Pup? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Harry swallowed. "I didn't know you were into flowers."

Remus blinked, surprised. "Well, I garden sometimes."

His head swimming with thoughts, Harry nodded weakly. They both sensed it but Harry didn't call him on it. What he did do after the lesson, wishing Remus a goodnight, was rush over to the library, grateful that it was still opened, and went straight to the front desk for assistance.

"What was the name of the flower again, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pince asked.

"Aconitum."

Nodding to herself, the librarian walked all the way to the back of the library, near the restricted section that was forbidden section for students, the same one Harry and his friends had to break into to learn more about the Philosopher's stone. Madame Prince paused, then turned over to the shelf by her left, her finger brushing across the books on the top shelf, then the middle. On the second to last shelf, halfway through, she paused and pulled out a thick, gray-covered book that was tattered around the edges, the binding frail.

"Here we are, Mr. Potter. This book should you tell everything you need to know about the flower."

Thanking her, Harry set the book down on a desk and flipped through the pages, skimming through the passages. One of the pages showed a picture of the flower. It was like a dozen or so mini, deep-lavender flowers stringed together to make one big flower.

He remembered Severus showing him and Draco that flower during a potions lesson a few years back before they came to Hogwarts. Its beauty drew a young Harry in and that beauty, Severus said, was what made it so dangerous.

Harry flipped over to the next page and found a section that was dedicated to the flower's history.

The flower has many names: aconite, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons. However towards the end of the 16th century, a new title was added to the collection. One more prominent than the others: Wolf's bane.

Besides silver to the heart and decapitation, it was discovered that the rare flower could be used against the animal. While it can't kill as immediately and effectively as silver, it can weaken the creature if enough dosages of the plant are flowing in their system. The best way of doing so is slipping enough dosages of the creature through food or drink while it's still a man before the full moon reaches its' peak.

The book slipped through Harry's fingers as the dots began to connect.

Dear…Merlin.

AN:I think we all know what's about to happen next