Chapter 73: Patronus

Harry still remembered the first moment he saw his Patronus. It stood like a flame of justice in the midst of the dark forest, its purity of purpose destroying a dementor in one swift burst. He'd realized then that not even death itself could stand against this titan, who represented the best of humanity and scientific progress.

That giant glowing titan was now grinning at them as it waited for someone to take the bait of his joke.

"I said, 'Knock knock."

"Umm…" said Hermione. "Who's...there?"

"Apocalypse."

"Apocalypse who?"

"About to glimpse your-uhh, buttons. Yes, buttons. Hi kids." He waved at Harry and Hermione, his fingers wiggling. "Ha ha, I forgot you guys were both still mini-sized. How do I keep this G-rated? Umm…tell you what, pull my finger."

He stuck out his hand.

"What…the hell," said Harry, turning his head slowly to the man. "Is wrong with your Patronus?"

The man's eyes were bugging out, and he was making gargling, sputtering noises.

"Err…no, I think…whew, you guys do not look okay. Don't forget to breathe. Now let's try this again, like we practiced." The Patronus doffed an imaginary hat, waved it in a bow. "My official name is Peliogranauticus, but you can call me Granola. I am Harry's long-suffering Patronus, and I'm here to help you save the world."

"Wait," said Harry, gaping. "You're sentient?!"

"It...would seem so," said the man. "Though if he truly is sentient in the sense of being aware of his own awareness, I don't know why he waited until fucking now to tell me."

"Oh, there's plenty of reasons for that," said the Patronus, lounging with a knee up on the battlement, the other dangling over the edge. "First of all, it's against the rules. I'm only allowed to interact directly with those of my own kind, not humans or sentient animals. We're not allowed to break that rule for any reason."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"Dunno. It's supposed to prevent the apocalypse or something, but I suppose there's no point in worrying about that anymore, is there?" He gave the man a look that Harry didn't quite catch. "In any case, I'm not bound by the rules in this timeline, so I can do whatever I want. You guys are lucky I decided to hang with you instead of cruising around Hogsmeade for chicks."

Everyone stared blankly as the Patronus chuckled and made finger guns.

"Second of all, even if I could have talked to you, I'm not sure I'd want to. Aside from the fact kids are kinda irritating on the best of days, young Harry was an especially annoying git who probably would have destroyed me 'by accident on purpose' if he knew I could talk and follow orders. I mean, as soon as you knew I existed, you took me to fucking Azkaban and got me shot with Avada Kedavra. Rude, man."

"Oh my god!" The man's eyes bugged out even more. "My Patronus is Science. I knew I recognized that voice! But I thought you were a girl?"

"Correction, I'm a combination of the memories of thousands of Ancient beings, swaddled by about 900 hours of Internet...uhhh 'videos.' You know, the ones with minimal clothing. And we talked about this, you have a weird thing about gender binary. I'm not even human, technically."

Harry could feel a headache coming on. He didn't want to believe in this reality. But he kept trying to visualize his Patronus, and he couldn't remember seeing him in a robe, or pants, or anything. He had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I...can't believe this," said the man, running a hand through his hair in sheer shock. "I read all the ancient manuscripts, but I never thought…so the Source of Magic did have a program to create artificial intelligence? And it actually worked?"

"Yeah," he raised his arms. "Several hundred years later than expected, but here I am."

"How...do you even exist?" asked Harry. "I mean, are you literally 'made of magic?' And how exactly does your embodiment come about? To what extent is your awareness strictly yours and not borrowed from another sentient source?"

"Err, okay lots of questions. Yes, I am made of magic. His magic, to be precise," pointing at the man. "There is a part of wizard cells that carries magic, and the embodiment of every Patronus is linked to that. The animal patronus are only partially sentient, their cognition borrowed from the wizard. I am fully and independently sentient, and I have been since I killed my first corrupted one in January 1991."

"I see." Harry was silent a moment. "I understand that the ordinary Patronus is cast using the proper state of mind, aka a 'happy thought.' Was your creation tied to my own state of mind at the time?"

"Yes and no. You need to be in the right mindset to wield my abilities, but you cannot create a sentient Patronus by thinking right thoughts. The Source of Magic decides where we are sent and when. There were many worthy wizards before you, Harry, but time wasn't ready for them yet."

"And so, when the time comes, does the Source of Magic just...pick out a sentient Patronus at random? Or is it somehow linked to the wizard's personality?"

A look crossed the Patronus' face. "Ahh. Disappointed?"

"That I have a sentient Patronus? No, not at all. But...well, I'm just having a hard time computing how this particular combination of personalities was considered ideal by the magical sky computer. My life's mission is to destroy death forever, and your goal just seems to be indulging in hedonism. I'm just not sure how this pairing is supposed to be mutually beneficial."

"Granola," said older Harry congenially. "Would you please tell my younger self that his childish delusions of grandeur aren't required to equate with reality? He simply isn't satisfied by having a magical Patronus that can destroy dementors if it isn't a mega-cool Patronus."

"Actually, Granola," said Harry. "I never said you weren't cool. And would you please tell Old Harry that wizards who mess up their timeline so bad they need to find a new one don't get to whine about kids these days?"

"Also, Granola," continued Older Harry. "Could you let him know that if he wishes for me not to grind him into floo powder, could he kindly stop grilling my Patronus and actually make some headway in not ending all life as we know it?"

"Granola, could you tell Tom he's the definition of a pot calling the kettle black?"

"Tell this idiot—"

"Because he's being—"

The Patronus stood up, pulsing with a dangerous radiance that made them instantly shut up. Harry realized at that moment he'd neglected to ask the most important question. Just how powerful are you, really?

"Hey listen up you blockheads! You both done screwed up." The Patronus turned to the younger Harry. "First of all, who wears a magical ring containing an evil dark lord on their finger? Are you nuts? Furthermore, as an expert on probabilities, let me tell you that you really, really aren't taking those prophecies seriously enough. For a smart boy you're incredibly stupid and reckless. I'm surprised someone hasn't tried to push you down a well sooner."

"Umm…" Harry rubbed the back of his head, thinking of Firenze trying to shoot an arrow through his heart. "Well…"

"Next. Old Harry."

"Not Old."

"Old Harry, you take the cake on stupidity. All that time researching prophecy and ancient tomes, and you didn't realize that the world was going to be destroyed anyway, regardless of what you did. Your time-rending ego trip just escalated the process and left you with a much smaller chance of success. Congratulations, you self-absorbed prick, you've basically screwed us all. And now the only way you're going to survive is if you accept our help in cleaning up this mess."

"Our help?" asked Hermione tentatively. "You mean other Patronuses? How many of you are there?"

"Oh, a couple dozen. And we're quite powerful, if still bound by some rules that are pretty stupid."

"Stupid? Oh, I don't know, Granola," said the younger Harry. "I think a powerful being made of pure magic, with access to hyper-intelligence and knowledge of the future should maybe have some safeguards to prevent it from destroying the world. If not, you could be in terrible danger of ending up like this guy." Harry pointed at his older self.

The man sighed. "Granola, look, I know I've made mistakes, but at least I've always been there, fighting to save the world. You say you're going to help us, but you disappeared on me decades ago, right when I needed you the most. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well…let me put it this way," said the Patronus. "When you change time to this extent, there are consequences. One of them is that time will try to force events to happen as they did in previous timelines. Which means that there is a very strong chance that I will be destroyed again, and that after that point, I can no longer help you.

"However, we will have several years, at least, before that happens. And in that time, there is a lot that we can do."

The grey sky was just breaking into dawn, the orange sun peeking into the horizon, when all of a sudden the entire area exploded with light. It melded into the air like a vast pool, and Harry marveled at the raw power slipping through his fingers.

"This," said the Patronus. "Is the energy that powers all magic. It's always around you, even if you can't see it, and it can do great things. Not everything—certain things are off limits even to magic—but it can do a lot more than you think it can.

The Patronus placed a hand on his heart. "I live and breathe magic. I understand it better than any of you ever will, and the lines of probability related to its effects across time. I know all the prophecies and how to interpret them. It won't be easy to save the world, but with my knowledge and your skill-we can give it our best shot."

Something clicked in Harry's mind.

Immortality. Enough magic to save all life forever. It was all around them.

Could it be...that the Patronus would make it all possible?

"Now come on, let's go meet Dumbledore. But first, Harry, can you cast your Patronus?"

Harry cast his Patronus, and his own version of the same man materialized from the wand. The Patronuses did a special handshake and high fived each other.

"I've always wanted to do that," they said in unison.

###

Dawn had finally broken on a clear blue sky. Hermione and Harry had taken their seats on the cushions on the rooftop. After their conversation with Dumbledore, and the last preparations had been made, the Patronus had dragged Harry Senior off to "have a chat" with him, in a voice that brooked no argument.

So Harry and Hermione sat alone, admiring the sky but thinking of much more serious things.

Four days. That's how many Harry would be losing, but it was much more than that. A whole lifetime of memories were wrapped up in those days. They would have no memory of Professor Quirrell's fate, or Hermione's revival, or the Stone of Immortality.

During their long conversation, Dumbledore had changed the plan, somewhat. They allowed Harry to keep his magic, along with the time turner and the cloak of invisibility. Older Harry had balked at first, but they'd explained exactly why and eventually he'd relented.

"There is no way to permanently and irreversibly destroy someone's magic without killing them," said Dumbledore. "And prophecies have a way of fulfilling themselves. Harry and Hermione are destined to be drawn into this fight, and they might very well need their magic to survive."

Harry's Patronus whispered something to the other silver Patronus, and he said, "Myself agrees. The lines of probability show that Harry is more likely to need his magic than not."

"Besides," continued Dumbledore softly. "There's other ways to hobble a wizard's rise to power, rather than just taking his magic outright. If you'll agree to it Harry, I'd like to suggest planting a few memory charms."

Harry sat on the roof, ruminating about the effects of those false memories. They hadn't told him what memories would be chosen, but essentially it was to turn him into a Don Quixote, tilting at windmills instead of prodding at real enemies. His scientific "quest" would be a fool's errand—like finding a way to turn lead into gold— but he would stubbornly follow it to the end.

"It will ensure Harry won't be a major threat in this battle," said Dumbledore. "While perhaps still playing a significant role. There was a certain quest you mentioned, I believe, that may be quite useful for them to participate in."

"Yes," said the Patronus. "Harry can't be chosen as an official player, of course, but he can still be by Hermione's side while she trains with us."

"Exactly. Then, if Hermione is called into this fight, Harry will be able to support her. This may be enough to fulfill the prophecies, and prevent the end of the world."

So Harry sat on the roof, aware that this orange sunrise was the last he would see as himself. In a few hours, he would be Harry the has-been, the idiot. He was lucky to get that at all.

And yet…under any other circumstances, he would probably feel a lot worse about this, except that there were other concerns occupying his mind at the moment.

He glanced at Hermione. "So umm. How are you taking all this?"

She sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I might be immortal and never have a family? I'll spend a thousand years saving magic from destruction? And they can't even tell me this will happen, it's just a 'strong line of probability?'"

"Well…maybe that's better than a certainty? I'm supposedly destined to destroy the world, and all I can do is fight to prevent it. But since they're guessing at your future, that means you have some choice in the matter."

"I'm not so sure, Harry. They said my magic powers were given for a reason, and if that's true, then I'm going to be called to use them. Maybe as a heroine, or an Auror, or maybe I'll just spend all my magic and die." She scuffed her feet on the castle's stone. "And if I do get called to save the Source of Magic, then I'll be alone. My friends and family will all die while I'm solving the quest, and…they won't be able to help me."

"Not if I can help it," said Harry, standing up.

He had been planning to do this for a couple days now, since the fight with Voldemort, and now seemed as good a time as any. He pulled the cloak from his pouch. "Hermione Granger," he said, placing the fabric in her hands. "I do not loan, but give you my cloak of invisibility. Use it well."

She gaped at him, then her eyes widened as she stared at the cloak. "Oh!" she gasped softly, pressing it against her cheek. "It sings. The cloak is singing to me."

"I think it was meant to be yours all along," said Harry softly. He pulled the time turner from his neck, and slipped it around hers, brushing her hair from under the chain.

"I know they're planning on changing a lot of things about our lives," said Harry. "I don't know how much I can do for you, but I'll try to support you as much as I can."

Wiping away tears, Hermione threw her arms around him, crushing him in a hug. Harry rocked back, almost unable to support her.

"Umm…" he wheezed. "Maybe a little less tight?"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, backing away in a rush. "I didn't mean…"

"It's okay," he said, sort of regretting he'd complained. Wizards were fairly resilient, he could have handled a few more seconds…

They heard a shout from the room below them, the sound of two men arguing. Hermione glanced at the ladder, her forehead wrinkling with concern.

"Don't they know what a quieting charm is?" grumbled Harry.

Hermione gave him a look, and Harry turned up his palms. "What?"

"What happened between you two?" asked Hermione. "You've been glaring at each other all morning."

"Well…" said Harry, thinking back to the events of the day. "The man who's supposedly me is completely full of himself. He doesn't listen, he makes you feel like an idiot just by talking to him."

"Hmm. Sounds familiar."

"No…okay, it's worse than me," insisted Harry. "But also, he…well, he tried to beat me up using magic, though I guess he didn't really, it was more like a scare tactic."

"Oh, you mean like gluing bullies to a ceiling?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Harry went on, "It's just difficult for me to trust him, okay?"

"Harry. He's you."

"Well, that's kind of the problem," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes with his palm. "He's nothing like what I pictured myself to be, and I'm worried I'll end up being a complete failure. Maybe I'm destined to cause destruction, even with the vow and Dumbledore's help. After all the mistakes I made with Voldemort, I can't help worrying that…maybe it's my destiny. And that terrifies me."

She remained silent, staring at the ground. Harry shifted on the cushion and asked. "You talked to him for a long time earlier. May I inquire—in a completely voluntary way—what you two discussed?"

Hermione snorted. "He said you'd be jealous."

"I'm not! I was worried about your safety."

"He said you'd say that too."

Harry groaned. "Hermione, it's not an irrational fear when your best friend is hugging the man who killed her. It's the only conclusion that explains how he's acting, all the guilt and how much he hates me. I'm not going to tell you not to talk to him, but I am allowed to be concerned and maybe a little overprotective."

After a moment of silence, she shrugged. "You might be right, but...I can't blame him." She stared down at her folded hands. "He's a very broken man, who's lived a hard life all alone. If you were in his shoes, I'd hate to think everyone would abandon you, even if you did terrible things. After everything he's been through, I don't feel like I can judge him for the things he's done."

Hermione lapsed into tense silence, frowning. "Talking with him was heartbreaking. I could see how much he cared for me, since just seeing me brought him to tears. But he was scared of me too, like he felt his touch would poison me or something. When I hugged him, he just…broke." Hermione sniffled, her eyes wet. "It's hard to believe we could be so important to each other. It's…a lot to take in."

She turned to Harry, a certain softness in her eyes. "This might sound a little weird, but the first moment I saw him, I could see our future. I think we'll grow much closer, and learn from each other, and stay by each other's side." She blushed, staring off into the distance. "Like real partners."

"Like real partners," he repeated. "You and me."

Her blush deepened, and she nodded. Her hand was right next to him, her pinky almost touching his. Harry stilled, thinking of the future, a wave of certainty washing over him.

It wasn't surprising to him that they would become closer friends in the future, but he hadn't realized how much he wanted her to rely on him. He liked the thought of them being partners, working with each other to achieve their goals, and growing closer because of that. It felt like some strange but amazing gift he didn't know he'd wanted.

Of course, that brought up the other obvious implication of what their closeness meant.

"Harry," asked Hermione, with the precision of someone handling a live bomb. "Do you think…maybe…we'll fall in love someday?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Events that happened in previous timelines are likely to occur again, which means that it's possible we'll be attracted to each other, spend time together, which will naturally lead to..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Harry rambled, "But that doesn't mean it's going to happen that way this time, of course! I mean, there's quite a lot to be said about, 'For want of a nail,' and the smallest changes could have a ripple effect. I might not think you're pretty in this timeline, or I might meet someone else and fall in love with her instead. Or you might meet someone else, and move away and then…you get the idea.

"What I'm saying is we shouldn't get our hopes up about something that might not happen, and we definitely shouldn't kiss each other to see if there's mutual attraction, since I still haven't gone through puberty yet. Plus, we're about to be Obliviated, what would be the point?"

"I had a feeling," said a man's voice. "That you would be up here, somehow making events play out worse than last time."

Harry turned around to see a much older version of himself, standing beside the ladder with hands in his pockets.

The man inclined his head to Hermione. "I do apologize for my younger self's incredibly annoying qualities," he said. "The boy has no idea what he's talking about. In any case, you may refuse to kiss him, as he requests. Someday, he's going to wake up and realize what a treasure you are, and then he's going to turn into a slobbering mess of hormones that has no idea how to function around you. At that point, you can decide if you'd like to end his suffering by returning his affections."

Harry gaped at him. "Excuse me, but I will not—"

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione. "He seems quite adamant about things being otherwise."

"Oh, he's going to be a complete mess," said the man. "Trust me. You're going to be beautiful and he won't be able to handle it."

"Why, thank you," said Hermione primly, folding her arms. "At least one of you knows how to be romantic. Maybe I should run away with you instead?"

"I'll go get the time machine," said the man.

"Right, now if you're done messing with us," said Harry. "And saying inappropriate things to children, can we get back to the matter at hand?"

The man smiled, a sadness behind his eyes. "Very well," he said, examining the horizon. "It's almost time anyway.

###

Harry and Hermione stood side by side, watching the sun rising into an orange sky. A cool breeze wafted through, batting at their robes. They had their wands out, laid over each other.

"Like this?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," said the man, nodding. "Just like the promise you made before the Wizengamot, only with a bond of friendship, rather than servitude."

"How will we know if we did it right?" asked Harry, glancing over his shoulder at the man. He didn't want to mess it up, in case they didn't get a do-over.

"Don't worry, you'll know," said the man. "The promise of fidelity will be fairly strong, so you'll feel it when it binds you together."

Harry and Hermione stood there, a little confused about what to do next.

As he'd told them earlier, this "pact of friendship" they were trying to recreate was a marker in time. Something about this moment was so important that it allowed the man to travel back more than twenty years. It was a more powerful memory than Harry's fight with Voldemort, or discovering the True Patronus. It was the event that solidified the new timeline, and without it, the world would pop like a soap bubble, only with much more space time warping and screaming.

The trouble was, it just seemed like so much pressure.

They stood there for a full thirty seconds, until Harry's palms were too sweaty to hold the wand properly.

"What…do I say?" asked Harry.

The man shrugged with a small smile, voice stirred with emotion. "Whatever comes to both of you. It will be from your heart."

Harry turned to Hermione, his heart still clammed up and not talking. It would be a lot easier if there was a formula, but apparently they'd created this pact of friendship on the spot the first time, and it had to come naturally or "perhaps" it wouldn't work. His older self had been sparse on the details.

So Harry stared at Hermione, whose eyes were closed in concentration, as she examined her own feelings for something to say. He swallowed, a part of him wondering what she was thinking. Harry's eyes shifted to his feet, wishing desperately he was better at this sort of thing.

Finally, after several awful moments of concentration, Hermione whispered, "Harry?"

He glanced up at her. "Yes?"

"Are you as nervous as I am?"

"Yes."

"Okay," she said, smiling. "I think I've got something. Just umm…follow my lead. You can copy my format if you want."

Harry nodded gratefully, and Hermione turned back to the man. "Is it okay if I start now?"

The man cleared his throat and nodded. Harry was surprised to see that the man was close to tears. He'd suspected, without being told, that the man would leave when the new timeline was "solidified." A thought came to him, that he hadn't really let into his head before, that maybe there was a time limit to his existence…

She straightened a little, and recited:

"Upon my life and magic, I swear friendship to Harry Potter,

To help him and support him,

To learn and grow with him

To stand with him, and umm, stand by him

'Till the day that death takes me for real, if it ever does, I mean,

And if the world or its magic ends, we'll deal with that together."

Harry couldn't speak, the gentle light of morning crowning her in gold.

It's beautiful, he thought. Wait, it's my turn isn't it?

Harry cleared his throat, and said:

"Upon my life and magic, I swear friendship to Hermione Granger,

To help you and support you,

To walk with you, and carry you when you can't walk,

Always to be there with…umm…a kind word,

Oh, and a good book to read,

And to love you, because you deserve it."

She let out a breath of air, and Harry felt as shocked as she looked. He hadn't really planned the last line, or any of it, but somehow it felt right.

A warm energy glowed from their wands, wrapping around them and slowly wound up their arms to their hearts. Hermione shivered a little as his promise wrapped around her, but it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. She blinked slowly.

"I don't want to forget this," she said softly.

He let out a slow breath. "Neither do I. But we did it correctly, right?"

Harry turned around, but the man was no longer there.

"Yeah," said Harry, swallowing back his fear. "I think we did."

###

"Are you…absolutely sure?" asked Hermione, her voice wavering.

They stood alone in the Headmaster's office, the most secure room in Hogwarts, with the fading light of evening settling over them.

He watched as her wand dangled uncertainty in her fingers, concern lining her face. They'd spent the entire day preparing for this moment. In several years, they would have more to do to save the world, but for now there was only one last step to take.

Harry nodded, his voice tight. "Yes. I want it to be you who does it."

They'd set up a chain of five people who needed to be Obliviated. Hermione would be the last.

She squared her small shoulders. She pressed her wand to his head, making a circular motion. "Obliviate."

###

Harry stood with Dumbledore, the last of the memory falling away.

"It's six hours, isn't it?" asked Harry, wiping away tears. "That's how long I have."

"Yes," said Dumbledore sadly. "Closer to four, now. But there's still more to show you."

###

Hermione, present day

"Expecto Patronum!"

As soon as she cast the spell, Hermione felt a rush of energy as the light before her grew and exploded like a miniature sun. Shielding her eyes, Hermione waited for the light to dissipate.

As it dimmed, Hermione's eyes took in the sight of her new Patronus.

She stood head and shoulders above Hermione, with long flowing locks of golden hair. Her brilliant robes fell to her ankles, and her giant wings shifted gently as she moved to examine her surroundings.

Her eyes fell on Hermione, and she inclined her head.

"Hermione," said the angel, her voice ringing like a bell. "We have only a few hours to speak freely. Thank you for freeing me, and giving me a voice. I have watched you from above, and I have spoken with the ones inhabiting the space between worlds. I've been chosen to guide you in your quest to save the Earth from destruction."

Hermione gaped at the angel, at a loss for words.

She could clearly picture Harry's reaction. An angel? he'd say, his voice rising at every syllable. I discover the first human Patronus and you show up with an ANGEL?

Hermione couldn't keep ignoring the celestial being of light in front of her. She had to say something.

"Err…hello," she said. "Do you...have a name?"

The creature paused and glanced around the warehouse, like she was trying to find inspiration from the objects around her.

"My name is Valencia."

"Valencia," said Hermione. "I need your help. First, can you tell me what's going on with the city? Why is the world being destroyed, and what can we do to stop it? And second, my friend Harry is dead. Can you save him? Please?"

Valencia turned to Harry, kneeling down to examine him. As she did so, the angel spoke.

"The Source of Magic is sick. Its creators damaged it through carelessness, and then left humanity to die. Merlin's binding on the Source of Magic protected the world for a time, but not for much longer. If you want to save humanity, you must heal the wounds wrought by dark magic upon the world."

"How...can we do that?"

"The humans that will save us must break into the Source of Magic, making their way past its defenses and into the inner core. They will have the chance to change one of its rules, its... 'programming,' to use your language. If they choose correctly, then the world will be healed. But if they fail, or they don't fulfill their mission in time, then the world will burn."

Hermione watched as the Patronus examined Harry, almost reverently.

"I don't think he's been dead for more than an hour. His body is still physically viable, right?"

"Yes."

"Can you save him?"

The angel rested a gentle hand on his face.

"No."

The world disappeared into white noise as Hermione stared in shock.

"Why not?"

"I cannot. It is forbidden. He sacrificed his life as a part of the ritual to save the world, and it cannot be given back."

A helpless panic rose within her.

"That…no, I don't believe that! He never would have consented to this."

"He did. This was his choice, made several months ago with his full knowledge and consent."

She stared at him. "You know what happened?"

The angel nodded.

Her voice shook. "Tell me everything."