The heightened excitement from The Quibbler interview only died down slightly as the week went on, mainly because most of the students could recite it by heart at that point. Hermione was surprised by how many friends told her they had sent copies home to their parents and grandparents, urging them to read it with an open mind. In Hermione's opinion, the release couldn't have gone better.
Just when things seemed to be settling back into a routine, the peace at Hogwarts was shattered by a scream echoing through the Entrance Hall. Hermione, Ron, and the other students eating dinner, rushed out of the Great Hall to see what was happening. Though Harry was supposed to be in the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson, Hermione caught sight of his raven hair as he hurried towards the commotion from across the Hall.
The students quickly formed a circle around the scream's source, some even climbing the marble staircase to get a better view. Thankfully, Hermione and Ron were able to fight their way to the front of the crowd. What she saw, however, was sickening.
Professor Trelawney stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall, her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly distraught. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other, and her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside-down, as if it had been thrown down the stairs at her. Professor Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something near the foot of the stairs.
While Hermione had little respect for Professor Trelawney as a teacher, seeing her in this state was heartbreaking. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of what had caused this, but she heard it before seeing it.
"No!" Professor Trelawney was screaming. "No! This cannot be happening! It cannot… I refuse to accept it!"
"You didn't realise this was coming?" said a high, girlish voice dripping with cruel amusement. It could only belong to one horrid individual. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections and lack of any improvement would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"
"You c-can't!" howled Professor Trelawney, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses. "You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"
"It was your home," spat Professor Umbridge, her toadlike face stretched into a grotesque smile of glee as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably, onto one of her trunks. "Until an hour ago, when the Minister for Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now, kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."
But Umbridge didn't move. She stood there, watching with a sickening expression of satisfaction as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking back and forth on her trunk in paroxysms of grief.
Amid the soft sobs of Lavender and Parvati to Hermione's right came the unmistakable clicking of Professor McGonagall's shoes. Hermione's favourite professor had broken away from the spectators, marching straight up to Professor Trelawney and patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.
"There, there, Sybill… calm down… blow your nose on this… it's not as bad as you think. You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…"
"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" came Umbridge's voice, dripping with condescension as she stepped forward. "And your authority for that statement is…?"
"That would be mine," said a deep, calm voice.
The oaken front doors had swung open. Students near them quickly moved aside as Dumbledore appeared at the entrance. Framed by the doorway against the backdrop of an oddly misty night, he looked particularly imposing. With the doors still wide open behind him, the Headmaster strode forward through the circle of onlookers toward Professor Trelawney, who was tear-stained and trembling on her trunk, with Professor McGonagall standing supportively by her side.
"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge repeated with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here—" she pulled a parchment scroll from within her robes "—an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she—that is to say, I—feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."
Hermione quickly glanced at Dumbledore, curious about his reaction. To her surprise, he was smiling. He looked down at Professor Trelawney, still sobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, "You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor, you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid," he continued, with a courteous little bow, "that the power to do that still resides with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."
At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh, barely concealing a hiccup.
"No—no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere—"
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."
He then turned to Professor McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"
"Of course," said Professor McGonagall, her voice firm. "Up you get, Sybill…"
Professor Sprout hurried forward out of the crowd and took Professor Trelawney's other arm. Together, they guided her past Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick scurried after them, his wand held out before him. "Locomotor trunks!" he cast, and Professor Trelawney's luggage rose into the air and followed her up the staircase.
Professor Umbridge stood frozen in place, glaring at Dumbledore, who smiled benignly.
"And what," she said in a whisper that carried throughout the Entrance Hall, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"
"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."
"You've found—?" said Umbridge shrilly. "You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two—"
"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if—and only if—the Headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore interjected smoothly. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"
Without waiting for her reply, Dumbledore turned to face the open front doors, where night mist was drifting in. From within the fog, the head and torso of a man emerged, joined to the palomino body of a horse.
"This is Firenze," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the Centaur who had just appeared. "I think you'll find him suitable."
"I bet you wish you hadn't given up Divination now, don't you, Hermione?" Parvati asked, smirking as she curled her eyelashes around her wand, using the back of her spoon to examine the effect. Parvati had been particularly nasty towards Hermione lately, and while Hermione wasn't entirely sure why, she didn't want to appear bothered or jealous.
"Not really," Hermione replied as indifferently as she could, pretending to focus on the Daily Prophet. "I never really liked horses," she added, instantly regretting the bigotry of her comment.
"He's not a horse, he's a centaur!" Lavender exclaimed, sounding shocked.
"A gorgeous centaur…" sighed Parvati dreamily.
"Either way, he's still got four legs," Hermione mumbled, cringing inwardly at her own words. Why had she doubled down on such a thoughtless comment? She did feel a hint of jealousy about missing out on the new Divination professor, but there wasn't much she could do about it—at least, that's what she kept telling herself. And that was no excuse for her words. Trying to steer the conversation away from her slip-up, she added, "Anyway, I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?"
"We are!" Lavender assured her. "We went up to her office to see her; we took her some daffodils—not the honking ones that Sprout's got, nice ones."
"How is she?" asked Harry.
"Not very good, poor thing," Lavender said sympathetically. "She was crying and saying she'd rather leave the castle forever than stay here where Umbridge is, and I don't blame her. Umbridge was horrible to her, wasn't she?"
"I've got a feeling Umbridge has only just started being horrible," Hermione said darkly.
"Impossible," said Ron, tucking into a large plate of eggs and bacon. "She can't get any worse than she's been already."
"You mark my words; she's going to want revenge on Dumbledore for appointing a new teacher without consulting her," Hermione said, closing the newspaper. "Especially another part-human. You saw the look on her face when she saw Firenze."
After breakfast, Hermione parted ways with her fellow Gryffindors and headed to Arithmancy. Sophie was already seated at her usual desk, grinning as Hermione walked in.
"Hey, Granger," Sophie greeted her with a smirk, sliding into the seat next to Hermione. "How's my favourite Ministry agitator?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she settled into her seat. "I'm hardly an agitator, Sophie. Just... passionate about certain causes."
"Passionate. Sure. Like getting Trelawney sacked?" Sophie waggled her eyebrows, clearly enjoying Hermione's brief flush of indignation. "Rumour has it she's been crying into her sherry ever since."
"That wasn't my doing," Hermione protested. "She was barely coherent half the time. But Firenze as a replacement is... interesting."
"Interesting? A centaur teaching Divination? That's downright scandalous. Though I've got to admit, it does give us Slytherins something new to gossip about. Besides our parents being named as Death Eaters, of course."
Hermione's expression softened a bit. "How are you holding up with all that? It must be tough, Sophie."
Sophie shrugged, but her eyes darkened slightly. "My mum and dad are in the clear, but it's not exactly fun hearing classmates whisper about your family in the corridors. No real updates, though—our common room has been quieter than usual. Everyone's waiting to see who gets hauled off next. Bit like living in a ticking time bomb."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said sincerely. "I can't imagine how hard that must be."
Sophie waved it off. "Yeah, well. You deal with it. Speaking of gossip, did you hear about Marietta? She's dating a Slytherin now. Malcolm Baddock. Can you believe it? Guess she's got a thing for brooding types."
Hermione snorted. "That's... unexpected. I suppose love—or whatever that is—knows no house boundaries."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Sophie said, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Speaking of unexpected... how's Ginny?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, how's Ginny?"
"Oh, nothing," Sophie replied, feigning innocence. "Just curious. Haven't seen her much lately, which is kind of interesting, considering."
"Interesting how?" Hermione pressed, her curiosity piqued despite herself.
Sophie leaned back in her chair, her grin widening. "Oh, you know. Just... interesting. Can't a girl ask a simple question without raising suspicions?"
Hermione shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the seriousness of their earlier conversation. "You're impossible, Sophie."
"That's why you love me, Granger," Sophie said with a wink. "Now, let's see if we can survive this Arithmancy class without any more Ministry-level agitation, shall we?"
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help but laugh. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep me updated on all the Slytherin drama."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Sophie replied, flipping open her textbook.
Professor Vector came through the door, and soon Hermione was lost in the wonders of Arithmancy. All thoughts of missing out on Professor Firenze's class were forgotten, at least for the moment.
However, Hermione's curiosity returned during lunch. The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter as students gathered around their respective house tables. Hermione sat with her Arithmancy book open in front of her, absently munching on a sandwich while flipping through pages. Her thoughts, however, were far from the intricacies of magical numbers. She was deep in contemplation about the latest events when Harry and Ron plopped down across from her, looking slightly dazed.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted, reaching for a jug of pumpkin juice.
"Hey," she replied, looking up. "You both look... bewildered. How was your first Divination lesson with Firenze?"
Ron gave a low whistle, shaking his head as he loaded his plate with sandwiches. "Mad. Completely mad. He's nothing like Trelawney."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it was... different. We had class in the Forbidden Forest. Well, not really. Firenze transformed one of the classrooms to look like it, but it felt like the real thing. Said he couldn't take us to the actual forest because he had been banished."
Hermione's eyes widened with curiosity. "Banished from the forest? That's… interesting. What did he teach you?"
"Well," Ron began, "he started by telling us humans are pretty rubbish at Divination, compared to centaurs, anyway. Said we don't understand the heavens like they do."
"Right," Harry continued. "He had us lie on the ground and look up at the enchanted ceiling, which he made to look like the night sky. He said we were to observe the stars and planets and learn to listen to them."
Hermione leaned forward, intrigued by both their words and the animated way they recounted the lesson. She had never seen them so excited about a class in their five years at Hogwarts. "And what did he predict?"
"Loads of things," Ron said, scratching his head. "He mentioned Mars being bright and said it was a sign of war. Pretty ominous stuff."
"Mars being bright is an ill omen," Harry added. "He talked about conflicts and battles. It was almost poetic but in a foreboding way."
Hermione's mind raced as she tried to piece together the implications. "What else did he say?"
"He spoke about the centaurs' long view of time," Ron said. "Said that what they see in the stars often takes years to come to pass. But he made it sound like the troubles were immediate, too. I dunno."
"Firenze also mentioned the importance of the planet Venus," Harry recalled. "He said something about it being the symbol of love and how it plays a crucial role in the conflict."
Hermione frowned, deep in thought. "Venus and Mars... love and war. It's like a balance of forces. Maybe he's hinting that personal relationships will play a big part in what's coming."
"Maybe," Ron said, unconvinced. "Or maybe he just likes talking in riddles."
Harry chuckled. "That, too. He did say something about humans not being able to see the forest for the trees."
Hermione nodded slowly. "That makes sense. It's a reminder to look at the bigger picture, not just the immediate events. Everything is interconnected."
"Yeah, but it's hard to figure out what we're supposed to do with that information," Ron said, looking frustrated. "Trelawney might've been a fraud, but at least she was straightforward with her doom and gloom."
"Firenze's approach sounds much more... holistic," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It's about understanding the broader implications, not just individual predictions."
Harry took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. "Yeah, but it's a lot to process. I guess we'll have to see how the rest of the lessons go."
Hermione returned to her book, but her mind remained on Firenze's words. Mars, Venus, love, war... The implications were vast and troubling. They needed to be prepared for whatever was coming, and understanding Firenze's teachings might just give them the edge they needed.
"Well," she said, looking at her friends, "it sounds like we're in for an interesting end of term, to say the least."
Ron grinned. "Aren't we always?"
Life at Hogwarts intensified exponentially as a dull March blurred into a squally April. The workload was absolutely maddening, and Hermione began to feel the same exhaustion she had experienced when she used the Time-Turner—excruciatingly tired and stretched too thin.
Hannah Abbott was the first in their class to receive a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey after she burst into tears during Herbology, sobbing that she was too stupid to take exams and wanted to leave school immediately. Hermione secretly wished she could take a Calming Draught herself, but she simply didn't have the time.
Hermione and Ron's prefect duties seemed to increase as well. It was as if the Head Boy and Girl enjoyed watching the fifth-year prefects lose their minds when they could have easily reassigned some duties to the sixth-year prefects. Hermione made a mental note that if she were lucky enough to be Head Girl in her seventh year, she would schedule the fifth years to handle the majority of duties during the first half of the year, then shift the workload to the sixth years during the second half.
To keep up with her workload, Hermione ordered a Quick-Quotes Quill by Owl and used it to continue her homework while she and Ron went on patrol. Using a simple charm to keep her parchment upright in front of her, she dictated what she wanted to write to the quill. At first, Ron made fun of her, but as time passed, he began to ask to borrow her quill when she finished.
According to the DA lesson plans Hermione had created for Harry, they were due to start working on Patronuses the following week. Even though her knitting had suffered due to the influx of work and duties, Hermione decided to study up on the extremely difficult spell instead of focusing on knitting hats and socks. She felt guilty, of course, but rationalised that if she couldn't protect herself first and foremost, there wouldn't be anyone left to knit for. She could continue her personal guilt trip and attribute it to not focusing on recruiting for SPEW, but she tried to ignore her dereliction for now. Keeping people alive was paramount. Once they were safe, Hermione could resume SPEW full-fledged.
Surprisingly, Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, was not a fan of Umbridge either. Hermione hadn't been sure since the book matron was one of the sternest staff members at Hogwarts save for Snape, but Madam Pince ignored all the protocols in place to let Hermione check out the restricted book she needed to read up on the Patronus charm.
She approached the spell like any other—repetition, repetition, repetition. Luckily for her, Sophie also wanted to learn.
"Now, remember that I haven't yet learned it from Harry," Hermione warned Sophie as she led her up to her secret tower space. "This is more about understanding the theory behind it."
"Fine with me," Sophie said. "Even if Potter were here, I doubt we'd be able to do it on our first go. That's some advanced stuff. You sure Potter has actually cast a fully corporeal Patronus?"
"He did. Third year," Hermione confirmed with a nod. "I was there. It was a stag."
"I'm not a huge Potter fan, but that is certainly impressive."
"It really is," Hermione agreed, turning around and using her wand to shut the door behind them. "Right. So, Madam Pince let me borrow this book from the restricted section. I've read it over a few times, but I think we should start there."
The two friends leaned over the book and began reading from Charms of Defence and Deterrence by Catullus Spangle.
This ancient and mysterious charm conjures a magical guardian, a projection of all your most positive feelings. The Patronus Charm is complex, and many witches and wizards are unable to produce a full, corporeal Patronus, a guardian which generally takes the shape of the animal with whom they share the most profound affinity. You may suspect, but you will never truly know what form your Patronus will take until you succeed in conjuring it.
There are two types of Patronuses: the incorporeal variant, which takes the form of a shapeless wave of mist, and the corporeal variant, which has a particular shape, taking on the form of the animal that the caster had the greatest affinity for. The incorporeal Patronus is weaker than its corporeal counterpart, and the corporeal Patronus is more advanced and challenging.
To successfully cast the spell, one must begin by mustering the happiest memory they could think of; the happier the memory, the better the charm would work. Alternatively, one could fantasise about a scenario that would act as a very happy memory,
The next step is to draw circles with their wand to increase the power of their spell.
Then, you must say the incantation, Expecto Patronum; the Patronus would come from the tip of the wand and could be directed towards a target by pointing one's wand at said target.
Patronuses only remained active whilst the caster was focusing on them.
Hermione looked up from the text and watched as Sophie read the last few sentences.
"So, the spell itself is pretty straightforward," Sophie said, narrowing her eyes and quickly re-scanning the text, "but it's the mental part that's the hardest."
"How difficult can it be to think of a happy memory?" Hermione said dismissively.
"When you're up against a dementor, probably pretty damn hard," Sophie countered.
"Well, we can prepare for that," Hermione said. "We'll make a list of our best memories that we can easily refer back to."
"What, like carry around a list of my happiest memories in my cloak pocket? 'Oh, hold on, Mr Dementor, let me just get my list out before you give me the kiss.'"
"That's not what I meant," Hermione said, her face flushing slightly.
Sophie laughed. "It's a funny mental picture, you've got to admit."
"Right then," Hermione said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Let's focus on the wand movements first and then go from there."
According to the book, the circle's diameter needed to be within a range of 22-27 inches from the wand tip. This would dictate how loose the caster's wrist movement could be based on the length of their wand. Hermione and Sophie took turns drawing the circle with their wands and measuring for each other.
Once they had perfected the wand movement, they moved on to the incantation. "It says the emphasis is on 'PEK' and 'TRO,' so 'ex-PEK-toh pa-TRO-num,'" Sophie read.
"Does it say anything about the angles during the wand movement?" Hermione asked.
Sophie scanned the page quickly. "No, it doesn't mention that."
"Well, that simplifies things a bit," Hermione said.
The two practised the incantation for nearly twenty minutes until the syllables lost all meaning.
"Let's take a break," Sophie suggested, closing the book and sipping pumpkin juice. "What do you want to talk about?"
Hermione smiled, grateful for the respite. "Actually, I received a letter from Viktor yesterday. I haven't had a chance to tell anyone about it yet."
Sophie's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Viktor Krum? How's he doing?"
"He's well," Hermione said, pulling the neatly folded letter from her bag. "He's been travelling a lot for Quidditch, as usual. But he mentioned something interesting about Harry's interview in The Quibbler."
Sophie leaned forward, eager to hear more. "What did he say?"
Hermione unfolded the letter, glancing over Viktor's neat, precise handwriting. "He said the interview has made a noticeable impact, even outside Britain. He's noticed a decrease in attendance at Quidditch matches. People are more paranoid and cautious, worried about the return of Voldemort."
Sophie's expression changed to something more hopeful. "That means they're starting to believe it, right?"
Hermione nodded. "Exactly. Viktor said that people are openly discussing the interview in places like Bulgaria and Romania, where the Ministry's influence isn't as strong. They're starting to question the news they're being fed and are looking for ways to protect themselves."
"Did he mention anything else?" Sophie asked, intrigued.
"Yes, he did," Hermione continued. "He's noticed an increase in security at international events. There are more Aurors present, and people are being more vigilant. Viktor himself has been asked to speak at several gatherings about his experiences during the Triwizard Tournament and the rise of Voldemort."
Sophie nodded thoughtfully. "It's strange to think how something as simple as an interview can have such a widespread impact. Good job, Granger. You may have just single-handedly saved all of wizard-kind from their own stupidity."
Hermione blushed. "I doubt it's that big of a deal."
"Of course it is!" Sophie insisted. "I know your name isn't Harry Bloody Potter, but people other than that bloke can get credit for things once in a while. You should put this down on your Patronus list—'Saved the Wizarding World.'"
"Ha. Ha," Hermione said sarcastically, but she knew she would be adding it to her list—not that she believed she was some sort of saviour, but because Sophie's compliment made her feel validated.
The pair decided to stop for the night and wait until Hermione had her DA lesson with Harry, just in case he could offer some additional insight to help them cast the Patronus Charm. Hermione was glad to head back to her room to make her list of happy memories without Sophie making fun of her. She wasn't going to carry it around with her (she had learned that lesson from Neville in their third year), but she wanted to be prepared nonetheless.
Back in the security of her bed, Hermione closed the curtains, curled up with Crookshanks, and began writing on a fresh piece of parchment.
Sophie telling me I "single-handedly" saved all of wizard-kind.
Learning I am a witch; Diagon Alley; meeting Neville on the train and pulling up to Hogwarts for the first time.
Hermione paused, letting the memories wash over her. She vividly recalled the exact moment Professor McGonagall had knocked on their door. Hearing what would become her favourite professor describe Hogwarts for the first time and explain why Hermione had never felt truly at home in the Muggle world had been life-changing. Then, on that magical trip to Diagon Alley, Hermione could still distinctly smell the dusty, leathery books at Flourish and Blotts and hear the clinking of coins in Gringotts. And how could she ever forget the awe of seeing the magnificent castle rising above the lake as they approached in the boats?
Hermione doubted she would need any memory other than that but decided to jot down a few more, just in case.
Making the feather levitate in her first Charms class.
Successfully brewing Polyjuice Potion.
Even though she had turned into a cat, successfully brewing such a complex potion in only her second year was still a huge accomplishment.
Hermione tried hard to think of something truly happy from her third year, but all she could remember was the exhaustion from using the Time-Turner. However, fighting their way past the Whomping Willow into the Shrieking Shack and seeing that Ron was alive had filled her with such an overwhelming sense of relief and joy...
Ron.
Hermione glanced at her list. Did Ron really bring her enough happiness to produce a Patronus?
She thought back over their rollercoaster of a relationship. They had experienced so many ups and downs over the last five years. The painful memories of their near-misses this year alone made her wonder—would that uncertainty hinder her ability to cast the spell? But then the wonderful moments crept in... his silly, lopsided grin, how he got almost as excited as his dad about Muggle things, the comforting warmth of his jumper after witnessing Harry's memories, the extra time they had spent together as prefects...
And then there was Viktor. Even though she had ended things with him, he had remained steadfast, always making sure she was alright. He had treated her with respect and loved her in a way she knew she should love herself...
Ron and Viktor.
Hermione scratched the names onto her list without any embellishment, fanfare, or description. It was strange to think that preparing for the Patronus charm could help her untangle the feelings knotted around her heart.
—-
The members of the DA sat eagerly before Harry, waiting for his instructions. Hermione had asked him to say a few words before they started, and she could tell that Harry was nervous. He paced back and forth near the dummies they used for jinx practice, his expression thoughtful and distant. Finally, he turned toward them and began to speak.
"Imagine being surrounded by a darkness so cold and suffocating that it feels like you'll never be warm or happy again. That's what it's like when a Dementor is near. They feed on your fears and your worst memories, draining every bit of happiness from you until all that's left is despair." Harry's gaze was fixed on something far away, as if reliving the memories he described.
"The first time I encountered a Dementor, I was on the Hogwarts Express," he continued. "At first, I didn't understand what was happening, but then this overwhelming sense of dread and hopelessness washed over me. It felt like I was drowning in my worst memories. I could hear my mum's last moments—her screams, the terror in her voice. It was like being trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from."
Hermione glanced around the room. Harry had everyone's undivided attention. She had, of course, been there on the train with him when the Dementor came, but hearing him speak of it now sent chills up her spine.
"When you're in that state, finding a happy memory feels almost impossible. But that's exactly what you have to do to cast a Patronus. You have to dig deep, past all the fear and darkness, and find a memory that brings you pure, unfiltered joy. It's not easy. In fact, it's one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. The Dementor's presence makes it feel like happiness is something you can't even remember."
Harry paused, and the entire Room of Requirement seemed to hold its breath with him. "But you have to fight against that," he continued, returning his gaze to the group. "You have to believe that happiness exists, even when it feels out of reach. The Patronus Charm, 'Expecto Patronum,' literally means 'I await a guardian.' You're calling upon your happiest memory to create a powerful guardian to protect you from the Dementors.
"The first time I managed to cast a Patronus was because I thought about the moment I found out I was a wizard and that I was coming to Hogwarts. That memory gave me hope and a sense of belonging. It reminded me that things were worth fighting for, even in the darkest times. And that's what we're facing right now."
Harry stood taller, his presence commanding the room. Hermione felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
"So, when you try to cast your Patronus today, think about a moment that makes you feel incredibly happy and safe. It could be anything—a time with your family, a special achievement, whatever works for you. Focus on that memory with all your strength. Feel the joy and let it fill you up. Then, with your wand, call out 'Expecto Patronum' and let your Patronus take form.
"Remember, it's not just about saying the words or doing the wand movement. It's about feeling that happiness, holding onto it, and letting it protect you. It's about finding light in the darkest of places. If I can do it, so can you. Now, let's give it a try."
The room erupted into cheers and applause. Hermione joined in enthusiastically, her heart swelling with pride for her friend. Harry seemed taken aback by the response, but the excitement was clearly well-deserved. Hermione couldn't be prouder of him.
As the group paired up and began working on the incantation, Hermione noticed Ron's circular motion was more of an oval shape. She stepped over to him, gently correcting his movements until both drew perfect circles in the air.
Hermione took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She closed her eyes and envisioned when she first met Professor McGonagall at her parents' front door. She saw the deputy headmistress sitting on the settee in their living room and heard her say the life-changing words, "You're a witch."
Gripping her wand tightly, Hermione began the circular motion. "Expecto Patronum!" she exclaimed.
Nothing happened.
Hermione closed her eyes again. This time, she pictured walking into Gringotts for the first time, the chandeliers gleaming above the elaborate marble floors. She could hear the goblins counting Galleons, Knuts, and Sickles. In her mind, she watched her father hand over a cheque, receiving a bag of wizard money in return. She could almost feel the weight of the gold in her hands.
Rotating her wrist, Hermione focused on that sensation. "Expecto Patronum!"
A small puff of silvery mist dribbled out of her wand.
She tried again, this time imagining the smells of King's Cross Station and the noise of the bustling crowds. In her mind's eye, she saw Neville and his grandmother hurrying toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. She felt the same rush of fear and awe she'd experienced when she first saw the brilliant red Hogwarts Express.
Hermione spun her wand again. "Expecto Patronum!" She was careful to emphasise the correct syllables.
This time, the silvery mist emerged from her wand with more force, swirling around her once before dissipating.
She was so close! While she was proud of her accomplishment with the Polyjuice Potion, Hermione knew that memory wasn't strong or visceral enough. Instead, she focused again on the feeling of simply being at Hogwarts—the smell of old, musty books in the library and the peacefulness of her little alcove where she and Viktor…
Viktor's dark eyes crept into her thoughts. She saw them sparkle as he leaned in for a kiss, felt her heart skip a beat, and remembered the feeling of safety in his arms. Hermione could still smell the hair balm she'd used at the Yule Ball and recalled the look on everyone's face as she entered on Viktor's arm.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silvery mist shot from Hermione's wand with much more force. Her whole hand started to vibrate as the mist condensed into a bullet-like shape, circling her head before fading away.
She shut her eyes again. Viktor's arms morphed into Ron's as he held her after a particularly bad nightmare. She looked up, seeing his concerned face turn into the goofy grin she loved. Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her into the arcade, where she could hear the bells and whistles of the games around them. She watched Ron concentrate on moving the claw, his jaw set and tongue slightly peeking out from the corner of his mouth. His eyes twinkled with pride as he presented her with a stuffed otter.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A stunning silver otter erupted from Hermione's wand, swimming through the air, trailing bubbles of sparkling mist. Hermione watched in awe as it followed the direction of her wand, gracefully swimming around the room and back again.
It was beautiful. Hermione couldn't stop staring at it. Whenever the otter started to dim, she guided it toward Ron, who grinned at it with that goofy smile she adored, making the Patronus glow brighter and stronger. She knew she'd have to come to terms with what this all meant regarding her feelings toward Ron, but for now, she was content just watching it swim.
"Don't forget, everyone: producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when there is no threat is very, very different from producing it when confronted by something like a Dementor," Harry said, breaking Hermione's concentration.
"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the room. "They're so pretty!"
"They're not supposed to be pretty," Harry said patiently. "They're supposed to protect you. What we really need is a Boggart or something; that's how I learned. I had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Dementor—"
"But that would be really scary!" said Lavender, shooting puffs of vapour from the end of her wand. "And I still—can't—do it!" she added angrily.
Neville was having trouble, too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.
"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded him.
"I'm trying," said Neville miserably, trying so hard that his round face was shining with sweat.
"Harry, I think I'm doing it!" yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first-ever DA meeting by Dean. "Look! Ah, it's gone. But it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"
Having recast her Patronus, Hermione was leading it around the room again. "They are sort of nice, aren't they?" she said to Harry.
Just then, the door to the Room of Requirement opened and then closed again. Hermione and Harry looked around to see who had entered, but no one was there. It was a few moments before they realised that the people closest to the door had fallen silent. Hermione watched Dobby emerge from the crowd and tugged at Harry's robes.
"Hi, Dobby!" Harry said. "What are you—what's wrong?"
The elf's eyes were wide with terror, his whole body shaking. The room fell silent as everyone turned to watch him. The few Patronuses that had been conjured faded into silver mist, leaving the room much darker than before.
"Harry Potter, sir…" squeaked Dobby, trembling from head to foot. "Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… but the house elves have been warned not to tell…"
Dobby ran headfirst into the wall, but Harry, familiar with Dobby's habit of self-punishment, quickly grabbed him before he could do more harm. The elf bounced off the stone wall, cushioned by the eight hats Hermione recognised as her own handiwork.
"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, holding the elf's tiny arm to keep him from hurting himself.
"Harry Potter… she… she…" Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist, but Harry caught that hand, too.
"Who is 'she,' Dobby?" Harry asked, though Hermione already knew the answer. "Umbridge?" he continued, horrified.
Dobby nodded, confirming their worst fears. He tried to bang his head against Harry's knees, but Harry held him back. "What about her? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the DA?"
Dobby didn't answer, but the look on his face said it all.
"Is she coming?" Harry asked quietly.
Dobby let out a howl and began beating his bare feet on the floor. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed, jolting everyone out of their frozen fear. "RUN!"
The room erupted into chaos as students scrambled for the door. Hermione found herself in the middle of the pack, crammed between Ginny and Neville. Ron was a few people behind them. But Harry, she noticed, hadn't moved.
"Harry, come on!" Hermione yelled, but she lost sight of him as the crowd pushed her out of the Room of Requirement.
Neville and Ginny started toward the corridor leading to the Gryffindor common room, but Hermione knew it was too far. "No, it's too far," she panted. "This way!" She led them toward the library, which was closer.
"Granger!" someone called out from across the hall. "In here! They're waiting for people in the library."
The three Gryffindors stopped in their tracks and pivoted to the empty classroom where Sophie was holding the door open. She shut the door behind them and quickly pulled down the blinds.
"Ron's still out there!" Hermione gasped. "And Harry! We have to—"
"You have to stay here," Sophie said sternly. "Umbridge has people everywhere looking for anyone who could have been at that meeting... and you three would be prime suspects. Once it dies down, you can sneak back to your common room."
"Damnit!" Hermione cursed, knocking a stack of books to the floor in frustration.
"Hermione, we've got to be quiet," Neville squeaked, peeking through the blinds. "There are Slytherins patrolling the hall right now."
"Thank you for helping us hide," Ginny said, hugging Sophie tightly.
"Of course," Sophie said. "They're all bloody eejits on power trips."
"No, it's much worse than that," Hermione whispered angrily. "This is fascism. Full stop."
"Now, Granger... I—"
"No, Sophie. This is way worse than you think. They're attacking and trying to take away the only way we can fight back." Hermione could feel the tears burning her eyes, the panic rising in her chest. "If Umbridge gets her way…" She let the thought hang in the air between them.
Eventually, the corridor outside the classroom cleared, and Sophie went out to make sure the coast was clear. Hermione, Ginny, and Neville dashed to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady greeted them with concern as they struggled to gasp out the password.
"Did Umbridge see you?" she asked.
"Don't think so," Neville squeaked.
"Thank goodness," the Fat Lady said. "Come in, come in."
"Did everyone make it back?" Hermione asked, but the look on the Fat Lady's face said it all. A groan escaped Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole, her mind consumed with worry about Ron. Had he managed to escape?
As soon as Hermione entered the common room, she scanned the area for any sign of Ron's red hair. A flash of ginger caught her eye, and she whipped her head to the left, spotting Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and Seamus sitting grimly near the fireplace. Hermione, Ginny, and Neville hurried over to them.
"Lavender and Parvati came in just after us," Fred said. "They said Millicent Bulstrode was chasing them, but they managed to outrun her."
Hermione remembered the Slytherin girl from their second year—she had duelled her once and ended up in a physical fight.
"Anyone else escape?" Ginny asked.
"I think I saw Luna and some of the other Ravenclaws make it past Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague with a few well-placed hexes," George added.
"The Slytherins didn't seem to go after the Hufflepuffs as much," Lee said. "I think they're all safe."
"What about Ron?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling. "And Harry?"
"We haven't seen them," Fred said sadly.
Hermione's heart sank, her throat tightening with fear. What would Umbridge do to them if they were caught? Would she expel them? Or something worse?
Just then, the portrait door flew open, and a flash of red hair dove through.
"Oy! They got Harry!" Ron yelled as the portrait door slammed shut.