Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, I only own a few characters and bits of the plot. There may also be direct quotations taken out of the book.

Chapter 8 – The Silver Bird

He had been flying for ages, at least two hours now and the broom showed no sign of exhaustion, in fact, every time Dean told it to slow down it would either ignore him or accelerate. Undoubtedly they had covered a lot of ground but two hours of solid flying had left Dean tired and his seating position was becoming very uncomfortable. The mist had cleared but Dean had no way of telling where he was, most of it was countryside so it was safe to fly quite low as no one was looking. Hoot had flown off half an hour ago to hunt for food.

Another half hour and I'll land.

The remainder of the flight was uneventful and as Dean had no watch, he didn't know how long they had been flying when the mist suddenly grew thicker. Dean's mind was immediately caught in a vortex of spinning images. He was being sent to Azkaban by the Muggle-born registration committee. He was a baby and his mother was crying and sobbing that his father would never come back. Seamus and his family lay dead beside him. The thought that this was a war they would never win. The thought that he was going to have to suppress his magical knowledge and live amongst muggles for the rest of his life. He saw Hogwarts; empty and devastated.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A wisp of silver smoke erupted from the tip of Dean's wand and the two Dementors closest to Dean retreated. However, there were more of them coming and the Patronus Dean had produced had already dispersed and faded.

Dean concentrated his thoughts on Seamus, the time when he had played his first quidditch match, and when he was sorted into Gryffindor.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

His second Patronus was another wisp of silver smoke which possibly looked duller against the pitch black of the sky.

The Dementors around him joined in a circle, their rags swaying, their clawed hands, each reaching out to Dean, they moved closer, enclosing Dean in a circle of despair.

This is it, I'm going to die.

Dean's wand arm rested limply by his side, but his broom suddenly took a sharp dive and flung Dean backwards so that he had to hold on to the handle otherwise he'd fall. They were flying at extreme speed and Dean could not see through the dark, however he could sense the Dementors following him. The broom, which seemed to be thinking the same, increased its speed until Dean felt as if the skin on his face was tearing away from him. Abruptly, the broom halted, and Dean lurched forward and flew off his broom, doing a somersault in mid-air and landing his behind on the ground, the broom hovered a few inches above him.

But the Dementors were still following him. They glided in a gloomy elegance towards Dean, their rags floating behind them. One of them grabbed Dean's chin with their skeletal hand. Dean felt as though he had been plunged in icy cold water. The Dementor, now hungry for food, moved in on Dean and its hood flew back, revealing nothing but a hole which it began using to suck the happiness out of Dean. Dean felt the transfer, the tug, as if all his memories were being attracted like a magnet to the beast, like he would never be happy again.

Whatever happened next happened very fast. A silver bird appeared and circled Dean twice, deterring the Dementors which immediately returned to the skies, then furiously, it flew after them at an astonishing speed. Dean saw the wings of the bird but he too was dazzled by its silvery brilliance, as well as the whole countryside, which now shone with a silver sheen. As the bird flew on, it looked like a star in the distance and the sky was returned to daylight, as it was before. Dean had gathered that it was past noon now, and as he sat there, remembering the bird, he decided, despite Aberforth's warnings, that he was not going to leave. He was going to fight, just like Harry, Ron and Hermione, and every other witch and wizard who didn't want a future like this.

"You alright son?"

Dean turned around to see a round-bellied man with fair hair speaking to him.

"Thanks, thanks for saving my life," said Dean, still in awe of the beautiful bird.

The man looked slightly confused, "Oh no, no that Patronus wasn't mine…"

"Then…did you see who did it?"

The man shook his head.

Another mystery, really it's becoming too much.

"You look like you should still be in school."

Are you kidding me? I'm taller than most of the Hogwarts staff.

"Yeah, only I can't, too many Death Eaters there, I'm a muggle born, you see," said Dean glumly.

"Didn't register did you?"

"No, I suppose you're a muggle born too?"

"Yeah, they were in the area last week so I had to make a run for it, left my wife behind, but she's a pure-blood, she'll be ok."

"It's a hard feeling isn't it? Leaving your family behind…"

"Yes," said the man sadly, the melancholy in his voice reflecting exactly how Dean felt.

Dean got up, brushing the dirt off his body, and the broom became still and fell to the ground like someone had clicked the off switch. Dean picked up its splintery handle and suddenly Hoot seemed to appear in thin air and fluttered close by the duo.

"You just missed the best thing, Hoot," whispered Dean.

Hoot gave him a look as if to say, "I know."

"You don't mind," started Dean to the stranger, "if I follow you around?"

"I think we had better stick together, it'll be easier to fight off snatchers and Death Eaters. My name's Ted Tonks by the way."

"I'm Dean Thomas."

They shook hands.

Ted pulled out a faded photo from his pocket, "Is this yours? I think you might have dropped it when you fell off your broom."

Dean took the photo but he didn't recognise the picture at all, it was an old wedding photo, the two unfamiliar figures were frozen, so it was a muggle photo.

"No, I don't think it's mi-"

Hoot gave a soft squawk.

Oh right, I remember you bringing home this rubbish.

"Would you mind if I had a look at that?"

Dean casually handed the photo to Ted Tonks who studied for a while, a flicker of recognition lighting up his face.

"I know this woman."

"Who?"

"Fiona Carrophs," he said, as the pair walked towards a small country village, "she was head girl when I was in first year at Hogwarts, brilliant witch, won lots of awards."

"Really?" asked Dean, mildly interested, but more concerned about how Hoot had managed to get hold of the picture.

"I heard she'd married a muggle called Dean Smith," said Ted, returning the photo to Dean.

Dean's attention was caught by the mention of his name.

They were now walking through the village which was relatively calm and peaceful. A man sat on a wooden bench outside a grocery store, un-jumbling words in the newspaper. A young girl sat restlessly beside him, finally asking in a childish slur, "Papa, why do you love jumbled words so much?"

"Anagrams can be completely irrelative to the original word in meaning, but are essentially born from the same letters, and can sometimes make very strong disguises which when uncovered seem blatantly obvious."

The girl stared at her grandpa with confusion and the old man smiled at Dean and Ted, pausing for a fraction of a moment at Dean's ancient broom, as they walked past.

"After we pass this village, there's a river not far off, thought we could stay by there a few days."

Dean nodded, though his mind was elsewhere.

Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith. Dean Smith.

Were they somehow related? Was there a reason why Dean was holding his wedding photo in his hands right now? Did he have something to do with the all the mysterious things that had been happening lately? Dean wished he had the answer to all these questions as he slipped the photo back into his satchel.

"So, how did you get that picture?" asked Ted.

"Oh," said Dean, "Hoot here picked it up for me on one of his night flights."

As they continued through the village, somewhere close by, Dean was being watched.

Won't be updating for a week, going on a holiday!