CHAPTER FIVE
Rest, Recovery and Remembrance
In the midst of the fog, Harry could make out a giant figure. It was imposing, yes, but comforting. In the fires of confusion, a man with a scarred faced walked closer and closer still. It spoke to him with a loud, booming voice. Words that he should remember, words that he had just heard, cracked and became disjointed. The laugh, a long drawled out laugh played backwards in Harry's mind. A woman whose face was blurred reached out with a powerless hand. The scarred man was close – his features became mangled, mouth contorted, drooling saliva. He had power, but a power Harry did not recognise, and did not want to recognise. Then: children, three of them, are crying in the fog and the fire. They are calling out for their lost father. The giant figure came into focus, its bushy, unkempt hair draped over its head. A room came into focus, Harry felt the mattress underneath him, "Yeh alrigh' there Harry?" Hagrid the Hogwarts Groundskeeper said, in his low kind voice.
Harry's mind was racing, trying to fill in the gaps. He could remember leaving the Ministry, flying over London and then... darkness. What had happened that made him loose control of the broomstick? "Yeh know how t' make an enterance, Harry. I'll give yeh that!" Hagrid said. "Hagrid? Is that you?" Harry stupidly asked. "O' course it's me, Harry! I picked yeh up near the Willow – knocked righ' out yeh were." The pain in Harry's head was subsiding; the familiar surroundings of the hospital wing were comforting. "I'm not the on'y one 'ere, look..." Hagrid nodded towards the three children gathered around his bedside. "You OK, Dad?" asked Lily. "I told you he was alright." Said James. "You were the one worrying!" exclaimed Al. Harry laughed, "Of course I'm OK – I've got Madame Pomfrey to look after me, right?" "Actually," an elderly Poppy Pomfrey said, sat in a large chair from the back of the room "you can thank Professor Longbottom – his cross breed of Transylvanian Rose Bud and Lithuanian Nettle Grass cured your wounds faster than anything I had in my inventory." Neville stepped from behind a curtain and said, "I call it the Longbottom Leaf. How are you Harry?" Harry nodded approval and smiled at seeing his old friend again.
Hagrid coughed loudly. "Oh," began Harry, "how are you Hagrid?" The half-giant smiled (and slightly blushed) before answering, "Oh, yeh know – Groundskeepin' is a bit 'arder nowadays, bein' as old as I am..." "I'm sure you do just fine, doesn't he kids?" The three children nodded in eager agreement. Quickly changing the subject, Hagrid suddenly announced, "Headmistress McGonagall is on her way to see you, Professor." Harry realised it would take some time getting used to being called 'Professor Potter'. It actually sounded very silly in his head. "She wants t' get you up to speed with things." Harry had almost forgotten, "Wait! What time is it? How long have we got?" "Calm y' self Harry. We've got plenty of time 'til these ruddy Muggles get here."
With a loud creak, the doors to the hospital wing swung open. With the air of someone very important, the Hogwarts headmistress, Minerva McGonagall walked in. She did not say hello to any of those present, instead she said "I need to speak to Professor Potter alone. Hagrid, could you please return to the Great Hall, we need you to help with the... preparations. Professor Longbottom, I would like you to return the Greenhouses and wait for your next class. Children, return to your dormitories. Poppy, if you wouldn't mind waiting outside." Each person did what they were told with no complaint. It appeared that McGonagall commanded some respect at Hogwarts as headmistress.
Before Lily left, she turned to Harry and yelled, "Oh! I'm in Gryffindor!" Harry smiled as McGonagall sat beside him.
"Well, Harry, you certainly know how to make an enterance." She said, with what could be said to be a half-smile. "Headmistress, I..." "Please, call me Minerva." "Minerva, I can't exactly tell you what happened. I was on my way here, and... I must have blacked out. The cold, maybe." McGonagall did not look entirely convinced, but Harry could give no better answer. "Harry, I wanted to talk to you in private because I wanted to establish... some rules." McGonagall looked stern, "As you know, we have not had a Ministry-appointed teacher at Hogwarts since 'Professor' Umbridge. It is very important you understand that Hogwarts teaches what Hogwarts wants, not the Ministry." Harry felt like a child, his temper was slowly rising, "Minerva, my being here has nothing to do with Hogwarts' curriculum. The letters we received at the Ministry are very troubling. I've been sent here to relay information about what could happen. Trust me, I am trying to help." McGonagall looked convinced, "Yes, the letters. We have decided to re-enforce the magical boundaries that protect our walls, however protecting the school from magical attack we know how to do. Protecting it from Muggle attack is... unusual." Harry pursed his lips, thinking deep. He was in two minds as to whether he should divulge his dreams to the headmistress. Looking at her, he decided against it. "What is the Ministry's official position on this?" McGonagall said, breaking the silence. Harry looked at her, and said "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem that the Ministry has a position. We're waiting for this as much as you are." The headmistress sighed, and rose from her seat. "Well," she began "I expect the best from my Professors – Poppy says that you will be fine. You have a class in one hour, third year Slytherin." She turned to leave. "We have six hours until – whatever it is – happens. Be alert, Harry."
The time passed far too quickly for Harry. A lesson plan had been drawn up by Luna, but it concerned magical creatures (that he was sure didn't exist) and the best defences against them (which he was sure wouldn't work, even if they did exist). Harry decided that he would begin with the only spell he had managed to get to work with reliability and that would be good enough for third year study. As Harry made his way from the hospital wing, he passed several groups of students all looking rather apprehensive. Eventually he found his way to the classroom, the Slytherin students outside quickly hushed their voices. "Erm, inside please." Harry said, with not a single ounce of authority. Fortunately, the students appeared not to have noticed and did as they were told. They filled the seats quickly, and Harry stood at the front of the class feeling rather foolish. "OK," he started, "welcome to Defence against the Dark Arts. Today, we will..." Harry was halted by a quivering raised hand from young Slytherin girl. "Professor?" she said. "Erm, yes?" "Is it true you defeated the Dark Lord?" Harry was unprepared for the question, and simply said – taking his cues from the ghost Professor Binns – "I deal in fact, not storytelling." The young girl looked embarrassed and lowered her hand.
"What I'm going to teach you today could very well save your life." Harry dramatically began, "I assume you've heard of Dementors?" The students looked around nervously, with one of them shouting out "I heard they were made up!" "Raise your hand, Mr.?" "Klastix" "Well, Mr. Klastix, I assure you they are real." Harry was aware that he had the class' complete attention. "Dementors are ethereal creatures. They feed off the happiness inside of us, draining it until only our worst memories and feelings remain. They are cloaked with a material made of nothing you have ever seen or felt. They are amongst the foulest creatures in the wizarding world. However, there is one defence." Harry pulled out his wand, pointed it at a nondescript place and yelled "Expecto Patronum!" From the end of his wand a mighty stag made of pure light emerged and galloped around the room. The students looked amazed, each ones' eyes following the creature around the room.
"The Patronus charm requires extensive training. You will not get it at the first try. Now, to perform the charm, you must first think of an extremely happy memory. Not your favourite story, or family member, but a specific moment in your life that made you experience being very happy. If you think you've got it, perform the charm by saying the words 'Expecto Patronum.' Everyone together." The class repeated the charm, some falling behind unable to pronounce it properly. When they had repeated it several times, Harry motioned to the class to form a line from the back of the class to the front. "Now, I want you all to try the Patronus charm in turn. Do not be disconcerted if you fail, this is highly advanced magic." One by one the students tried the charm. The first, the young girl who had asked the question, almost threw her wand across the room. Most of the students had trouble saying the word, but to Harry's surprise, a few managed to evoke a whisper of silver from the end of their wand. "Don't worry, you'll get it." Harry said to a young boy who had accidentally blasted a table to pieces. The last student to try his hand at the charm was a tall, silver haired boy with slightly pointed features. He was familiar to Harry, but he couldn't place him. He raised his wand, and with apparent ease yelled "Expecto Patronum!" What happened next nearly knocked the wind from Harry. He had expected a whisper of silver, but instead a large, glowing wild boar shot from the wand, and began to curiously look at its silver stag counterpart.
For a second, Harry was speechless. The silver haired boy looked almost unsurprised by his achievement. "C-congratulations! That is how you perform the Patronus charm!" The boys' complexion changed almost immediately – it appeared that admiration garnered confidence. "Really? You liked it?" He asked, followed with a wild smile. "Of course!" Then Harry saw it. "You're Scorpius Malfoy, right?" Harry asked. "Yes, yes I am. How did you know that?" Harry was about to answer, but the darkness took him again. The woman with the bloodstained, white dress was back. She was on her knees, playing with a piece of wood that may have been a wand. She seemed uncertain what to do with it, fumbling with it in her fingers. All of a sudden she raised her head. The scarred man walking towards her. Every time, it was the scar. Such prominence it had over every other feature. He had something in his hand – a sharp instrument. He could feel remorse pouring from the man, the pain he felt. But not for the woman, it was for someone long since lost. The scarred man lowered himself, and placed the sharp instrument into her arm. He remained there, watching her. Slowly she faded away, her soft sobs echoing into the darkness. Then the scarred man began to speak his usual unusual words. "It is done now Shelby and any further insubordination from you will result in severe consequences." It paused for a moment. "I need not explain myself Jason. Rebecca, are preparations complete for your arrival at the school? Good. There is no doubt that Mr. Malfoy's disappearance will go unnoticed. We must act quickly." Another pause, this time much longer. "In four hours, you will understand. Trust me; my plan is borne out of controlling these 'people', I do not intend to hurt anymore of them. Co-operation is of the utmost importance."
"Professor?" A distant, child's voice asked. "Professor?" There it was again. "Professor Potter?" Before he could stop himself, Harry grabbed Scorpius by the scruff of his collar. He was aware he was sweating profusely. "G-get..." Harry started, with great difficulty, "Get the headmistress... Your mother... is in trouble..."