CHAPTER 44: THE PURSUIT AND AN UNEXPECTED PATRONUS
Dusk draped itself languidly over the well-tended lawns and meticulously pruned hedges surrounding the grandeur of Malfoy Manor. The estate and its surroundings were now swathed in the tender embrace of a gentle half-light, casting an aura of mystique, while a cool mist subtly permeated the air. Distant stars shimmered against the vast, moonless expanse of the deepest velvet night sky.
Bella, her bare feet making intimate contact with the dew-kissed grass that carpeted the space between the meticulously sculpted topiaries and the pristine white roses, was far from captivated by the serene beauty around her. Restless, she swung her boots idly in her hand, their leather striking a playful tune against a bed of geraniums. Each connection with the vibrant flowers sent delicate, white petals descending gracefully into the dewy embrace of the grass, where Bella unceremoniously mashed them beneath her toes.
"Boring," she muttered, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. Her hand pushed a cascade of curls back over her shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to find solace in her own thoughts. But it was to no avail as a small, persistent voice within her continued to chant, "Boring. Boring. Boring."
"Find something to do, Bella," she mused, but the challenge of entertaining herself within the confines of what she deemed "baby Cissy's silly cage" remained an elusive endeavor. "A peacock cried from the other side of the hedge," she noticed.
A giggle bubbled up within her, and she teased, "One of Cissy's silly birds."
With an impulsive surge of mischief, a tantalizing idea danced before her, beckoning her to chase after it. "Let's grab it, Bell," her inner voice urged.
Bella, following her instinct, adopted a stealthy posture, moving gracefully along the length of the hedge, staying well within the shelter of its shadow. She tiptoed past stoic marble busts, each one seemingly watching her as she passed. Underfoot, the grass felt icy, sending tiny shivers through her toes.
Another cry echoed in the distance, confirming her suspicions. "It'll see us, Bella!" her inner voice cautioned. She, in response, retrieved her wand with a flourish and cast a disillusionment charm over herself. "Not anymore, Bell."
A translucent shimmer traced her path as she slipped past the last pale stone statue, a creature of the shadows. The sensation of the cool grass against her toes and the caress of the evening breeze against her skin painted an exhilarating scene. With measured steps, Bella closed in on her elusive quarry.
"I'm gonna get you, birdy!" she whispered with anticipation.
In an electrifying blur of motion, something lunged from the base of the hedge, whizzing past Bella's bare feet. Nagini, with her predatory grace, seized the peacock by the neck in her sinuous coils, her fangs sinking into the avian prey. The peacock emitted a forlorn scream, its plumage ruffled in panic before it ultimately surrendered to its fate, lying lifeless in Nagini's grip.
Nagini, with the peacock clutched in her powerful jaws, dragged the avian trophy into the cool, dark embrace of the long grass. There, she proceeded to unhinge her jaw, making a feast of the peacock, ingesting it with measured, methodical precision.
"Silly birds," Bella murmured as she released her charm with a whimsical twist of her wand. "So pretty and yet so foolish, easy prey for a girl like me."
As the tranquil evening deepened, a diminutive, shadowy bird flitted gracefully from the heavens and gracefully perched itself upon Bella's palm. It transformed into a delicate cascade of inky letters, elegantly curling and twisting to form a message.
"'Number five, Church Road, Hasketon, Woodbridge,'" Bella read aloud, her voice laced with a mischievous giggle. "Found you, Andi!"
Her inner voice chimed in with an almost playful pout, "A useful Muggle, Bella. Even the mundane have their occasional purpose, Bell." The ink obediently dissolved into her skin, weaving secrets into her consciousness.
In the blink of an eye, Bella envisioned a vivid scene in her mind. A quaint, red-tiled church with ancient flint walls and a distinctive round tower loomed on the horizon. It stood sentinel over a row of charming houses, bordering a lush, green common scattered with trees.
Her intent clear, she prepared to Apparate to the indicated location. A smile adorned her face, and her impatience manifested in her bouncing steps. "Now, I'll lure you back to join baby Cissy and me," she muttered to herself, her thoughts drifting to the image the ink raven had provided.
In the blink of an eye, Bella materialized outside a diminutive, well-kept house. It nestled seamlessly among its counterparts, distinguished by its pristine white fence, door, and windows. A pathway of smooth stones wound through neatly striped grass, and above the glossy black "five" adorning the door, a delicate raven wind chime gently swayed in the breeze.
Excitement coursed through Bella's veins, propelling her forward. "Andi!" she cried, darting across the grass.
However, a note of caution crept into her inner voice. "Don't let anyone see us, Bella."
Bella's fervor faltered for a moment, and she inquired, "Why not? Andi will be delighted to see us! After all, she's our sister."
But Bella's enthusiasm was tempered by a memory. "Cissy did mention that Andi was being rather foolish, marrying a Muggle and living in the non-magical world," she mused. "She might choose to distance herself from us."
Curiosity compelling her, Bella cautiously peered through the hedge and into the window. She spotted a tall man, his back turned to her. A pair of slim, pale arms wrapped tenderly around his chest, and dark curls cascaded over his right shoulder.
Seeing Andi in this intimate moment, Bella's heart quickened, and a spark of determination ignited within her. "Andi!" she whispered to herself, her emotions a tumultuous mix of longing and excitement. "It's time to come back and be our unique, unconventional sister once more. We need to bring some vivacity back into baby Cissy's life and make her fun again."
A searing pain lanced through her forearm, and Bella grimaced as she yanked her indigo sleeve back to reveal the unmistakable mark etched into her skin. The serpent, the emblem of their allegiance, writhed menacingly around the skull beneath her flesh. She huffed in discomfort, her irritation evident.
"Awwwww," Bella grumbled, hurling her boots with a petulant flourish into the hedge, where they obediently bounced back across the dew-kissed grass. "I wanted to see Andi."
Her inner voice, ever the voice of reason, chimed in with its wisdom. "We can wait, Bell. After all, we've already waited for fifteen long years."
Bella cocked her head, a mischievous gleam returning to her eyes. She flicked her wand, quickly drying her feet. "I suppose we can wait a few days longer, Bell," she conceded.
With that decision made, Bella executed an Apparation, whisking herself away from the tranquil scene she had been observing.
In an instant, she materialized in the grandeur of the mansion's main hall. There, amidst the faint light filtering through the oculus, she found the Dark Lord. His silhouette was framed by dark silk, and the soft crimson glint of his slitted eyes pierced the shadows. Malfoy, Rookwood, and the enigmatic Strange Boy knelt in his presence, silver masks held in their hands.
"Bella," the Dark Lord beckoned with a crooked finger, his tone tinged with both authority and curiosity. "You're late."
"Sorry," Bella chirped, her steps light and carefree as she approached the assembly. "I was watching Nagini eat a peacock."
A subdued groan escaped Malfoy's lips, a testament to his frustration.
Bella couldn't help but giggle. "Cissy's not very happy; the snake keeps eating her pretty pets."
The Dark Lord's lips twitched ever so slightly. "I'm sure Lucius can procure more peacocks," he remarked, his voice carrying a weight of power and promise. "His fortune has grown great while others languished in Azkaban..."
With a graceful wave of his hand, the air seemed to shimmer, and the other three figures were drawn upright. "Now, you have been making plans, Lucius," the Dark Lord continued, turning his attention to Malfoy.
"Of course, my lord," Malfoy responded with a respectful dip of his head. "I've bribed an official to let myself and Bellatrix—"
"Just Bella!" Bella interjected, her desire for a nickname becoming abundantly clear.
The Dark Lord tutted, his crimson gaze flicking to Bella with a dry, heat-laden intensity. "Hush, Bella," he said firmly. "I wish to hear Lucius' plan uninterrupted."
Meanwhile, Strange Boy inched closer, his expression inscrutable.
Bella exchanged an uncertain glance with her inner voice, unsure of Strange Boy's intentions. Nevertheless, she maintained her focus on the proceedings.
Malfoy cleared his throat and continued, his voice tinged with a hint of unease. "Severus informed me that Dumbledore's sycophants are spread thin and tied down. The official I bribed will be absent from the atrium, so we'll be able to descend straight down to the entrance to the Department of Mysteries unimpeded."
The Dark Lord, his crimson eyes gleaming with intrigue, nodded in acknowledgment. "Adequate," he declared. He then turned his attention to Rookwood. "I will inspect the doorway myself in the coming days. Should it prove necessary, I will send you along with Bella and Lucius to remove any key wards."
He raised a pale, commanding finger as Rookwood opened his mouth, silencing any protest. "That's all, Augustus. You may leave."
"Yes, my lord," Rookwood responded with a deep bow before making a hasty exit.
The Dark Lord's attention then turned to Strange Boy, extending his black-sleeved arm in a dismissive gesture. "You as well," he commanded.
Strange Boy exchanged a meaningful look with Bella before bowing and retreating into the shadowy corridors of the mansion.
The Dark Lord returned his gaze to the oculus, peering up at the stars that twinkled in the night sky. "The next step, Lucius," he inquired, his tone expectant. "I trust that there is one."
Malfoy, still wrestling with the nerves that had surfaced, nodded and adjusted the collar of his robes, a sheen of sweat glistening on his temples. "Of course, my lord. Once the key wards on the door are removed, my lord, either one of us can use fiendfyre to enter. We merely have to ensure that Dumbledore's guard is taken care of first."
An exhilarating thrill coursed through Bella at the prospect. "Fun. Fun. Fun," she chanted, her excitement palpable.
The Dark Lord, his lips curling into a thin smile, acknowledged her eagerness. "Yes, Bella. A little game for you."
Her inner voice, practical and sobering, chimed in with a reminder: "Win or die, Bella. Feel alive, or lose, Bell."
Malfoy, shifting uneasily, pressed further. "Once we're inside, my lord, is there anything you wish from us?"
The Dark Lord regarded Malfoy with the calculating eyes of a serpent studying its prey. "Yes. Once you've cleared the entrance, you must find the Hall of Prophecies. Ensure there's nothing untoward lurking there. Dumbledore would love to trap me for the world to see and undo the progress we've made in the shadows."
His wand emerged from his sleeve, the tip hovering provocatively before Malfoy's eyes. "Do not fail me, Lucius. Or there will be consequences."
"I would never, my lord," Malfoy assured him with unwavering loyalty.
With a subtle flick of his wand, the Dark Lord's wand vanished. "Then you also may leave."
Bella, however, remained, her curiosity undiminished. "And what about me?"
The Dark Lord's crimson gaze settled upon her, his tone laced with a mixture of concern and admonishment. "Bella, you've not been taking the potions Severus prepared for you. Word has reached me that you... refused."
Frustration welled up within Bella, and she clenched her fists in anger. "Stupid Strange Boy tattled! I hate those silly, lumpy, bitter drinks," she confessed, her face twisted in displeasure.
"They're good for you," the Dark Lord insisted, his hand raised in command. "You will take them, Bella. If you don't, you will spend your time here rather than playing with my opponents."
Bella pouted and reluctantly pushed aside the fleeting surge of rebellion that had bubbled up within her. "Fine. I'll take them."
"I suspect there's a good chance Dumbledore will attempt to trap me into a confrontation at the Ministry," the Dark Lord mused, his red eyes gleaming with an ominous brightness. "He knows that if the truth is not revealed soon, it will be too late to stop me..."
Bella's inner voice, always irreverent, interjected with a touch of humor. "It's already too late, Bella. Dumbledore's all old. His game's nearly over anyway, Bell." Bella couldn't help but giggle at the thought.
"Would you like me to play with him instead?" she asked, her voice tinged with an eager anticipation.
The Dark Lord, his tone a mere whisper, responded, "No. When the path is clear, you will use the mark I gave you to notify me. I will slip in undetected and retrieve the prophecy myself. No one else can remove it, save for Harry Potter himself, and I doubt Dumbledore will risk his most valuable pawn being lost to the Ministry's justice."
Bella, however, couldn't help but fantasize about the tantalizing game she could play. "But imagine what a great game that would be, Bell. The pain, the struggle, and then sweet victory." Her sigh was a mix of longing and disappointment. "But he won't let us, Bella. He wants to play that game himself."
The Dark Lord acknowledged her desire with a cold grin. "I know you wish to play with the old teacher, but I don't intend to risk losing such a valuable follower as you." His smile faded, and he turned to a matter of concern. "Now, there's another matter I wish to discuss with you, Bella."
Bella, ever ready for another thrill, inquired, "Oh? A game?"
The Dark Lord's crimson eyes burned with fury as he shared the revelation. "Someone cast the Dark Mark at Godric's Hollow. I have allowed my followers to believe it was me, but one of my inner circle is to blame. They've either shared the spell I created for them or risked exposing us before I have commanded it."
Her voice oozing with curiosity, Bella probed, "Who was it? Can I play with them?"
The Dark Lord clarified, "Only if they're proven guilty or it happens again." He reached out, gripping her shoulder with a cold, vice-like intensity that dug into her skin. "Keep an eye on Lucius. He has the most to lose among those who follow me. If it's truly a betrayal, it's most likely to come from Lucius, hoping to cast me down before any conflict arises to cost him his influence or riches."
"Cissy will be upset if I beat Lucius," Bella remarked with a shrug, her voice tinged with indifference. "But he's made her sad, so maybe beating him will cheer her up. She can buy her own peacocks, then!"
The Dark Lord acknowledged her words with a thin smile. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Keep your eyes open for whomever's responsible, Bella. The longer we can move in the shadows, the easier our victory will be."
Curiosity then got the better of Bella, and she inquired, "Is that it? When are we going to the Department of Mysteries?"
The Dark Lord, ever enigmatic, responded, "Lucius has chosen a date. You won't be doing anything other than recovering, Bella. I will summon you when it's time."
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Bella shook her head. "Nope. We're going to find Andi and bring her back to us, Bell. Sisters are forever."
Her ensuing giggle resonated through the room, her exuberance evident. "Of course," she replied with an air of obedience.
The Dark Lord's parting words were a soft whisper, as he seemed to evaporate from the space like a shadow. "Good. I would be displeased if I learned you risked my venture for some childish whim, Bella. Very displeased."
Bella, left alone in the room, couldn't resist the urge to stick her tongue out in the direction where he'd stood. She muttered to herself, "He's more boring than he used to be, Bell."
But her inner voice offered a wise perspective, reminding her, "But he's the best player. So he makes the rules, Bella."
Bella tapped her heel on the cold marble floor, the sound echoing off the empty walls. "Until another player comes to beat him, Bell."
A faint thrill coursed through her veins, and she fingered her wand as if considering her own potential role in the unfolding game. "Everyone loses in the end, Bella," she mused.
Bella nodded, her acknowledgment tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Even us, Bell."
In the stillness of the room beneath the glass dome, the words reverberated, a stark reminder of the inevitable.
"Even us, Bella."
Colin Creevey lay nestled beside the roaring common room fire, cocooned in the warm embrace of his armchair. His breathing, deep and steady, provided a soothing backdrop to the rattling windows nearby. The erratic dance of flames painted intricate patterns on the stone walls, casting fleeting, ethereal shadows. As the minutes ticked by, Creevey's head slowly slid off the chair's corner, and with a start, he jolted back to consciousness.
The flicker of concern danced in Harry's eyes as he exchanged a glance with Colin. Harry decided to discreetly employ a touch of magic to soothe his friend's lingering shock. A subtle, ephemeral wave of reassurance washed over Colin's thoughts, helping him regain his composure. Turning his attention to the comforting crackle of the fire, Colin felt the subtle connection fade away.
Harry nodded with a small, satisfied smile, acknowledging that things were progressing.
Katie, looking as vibrant as ever, descended the staircase leading from the girls' dormitories. Gracefully, she perched herself on the arm of Harry's chair. Her keen observation did not miss the conspicuous absence of the sickness that had afflicted him just the day before.
"You're not looking very ill," she remarked with a hint of playful suspicion. "That horrible sickness you picked up yesterday has mysteriously vanished."
Harry responded with an enigmatic smile, concealing the inner workings of his newfound solution. His thoughts involuntarily wandered to Fleur, a luminous fire burning in her eyes, and his heart stirred. Fleur's image remained a constant presence in his mind, an ever-burning flame of attraction.
Katie, with a sly twinkle in her eye, probed further, "Was it Frenchie medicine?"
A subtle flush crept up Harry's cheeks as he attempted to shield his thoughts from the vivid memories of intimate moments shared beneath the willow tree. "No," he admitted, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and longing.
Katie pursed her lips, feigning innocence as she leaned further into the cozy embrace of Harry's chair. Her arm rested comfortably on his shoulder. "Sure, Harry. Whatever you say." She leaned in, eager to unravel the mystery that had enveloped her friend. "I went to the hospital wing when Neville said you were sick, but you weren't there, and nobody had seen you since your lesson with McGonagall…"
With a sheepish grin, Harry confessed, "I might've gotten a bit lost on my way to the hospital wing."
"Be cautious about sneaking off to France. Rita Skeeter hasn't written anything about you in nearly a week, and she's likely itching for a new scoop," Katie cautioned, giving Harry a gentle shove. She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "So, how's it going with you and Frenchie? You've been pretty tight-lipped about it."
Harry hesitated for a moment, his thoughts veering toward the truth, the fact that he was withholding details about Fleur to protect her from the relentless media frenzy that seemed to follow him everywhere. "I keep things under wraps because when people realize I have something they don't, they always try to take it away from me," he confided.
Katie nodded in understanding. "I get it. You don't want anyone going after her because of you, especially not Skeeter. Any girl she thinks is remotely close to you will end up on the front page the next day."
Harry grimaced at the thought. "That's exactly what I want to avoid. It's a tough situation."
Katie contemplated his words. "It must be hard for her too. If you're not telling people, she probably gets hit on a lot. At some point, you might have to go on fake dates just to keep things normal."
Harry suppressed a surge of jealousy and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Well, she's currently suspended for cursing someone, so I doubt anyone's hitting on her right now."
Katie expressed relief. "That's a relief."
"Yeah," Harry replied, burying the unsettling emotions he felt regarding Fleur somewhere deep within. "I wouldn't like it if she were going through that."
Katie sympathized with him. "At least you're not around to witness it. As long as you both are happy and safe, that's what matters, right?"
Harry nodded in agreement. "You're absolutely right."
Katie shifted on the arm of his chair, her curiosity piqued. "While you were away, did you happen to catch what Skeeter wrote in the absence of a story about you or Dumbledore?"
Harry glanced up, meeting her gaze. "I didn't. Anything interesting?"
He couldn't help but wonder if Skeeter had dug up any information about the Dark Mark or if it had been successfully covered up.
Katie's voice dropped to a hushed tone. "Someone cast the Dark Mark over Godric's Hollow. The Ministry is pointing the finger at Sirius Black, claiming he's an escaped supporter of You-Know-Who. But Skeeter diverged from the official script. She mentioned that Black was last spotted in Cyprus just three days ago and that he never cast the Dark Mark after killing Peter Pettigrew."
Harry's brow furrowed in thought. "That's enough to cast doubt on the story. Maybe someone at the Ministry got under her skin, and this is her way of retaliating."
Or perhaps Fudge forgot to keep up her payments.
Katie whispered, "Or she might just want more money." She then added a curious detail. "The intriguing thing is that the Prophet got into trouble for revealing details about a secret investigation, so Skeeter shouldn't have known about the Cyprus connection at all."
Harry chuckled at Katie's remark. "I don't think she should know half the things she writes. She probably has an inside source in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Katie nodded in agreement. "She's incredibly skilled at uncovering secrets. I wonder how she manages it."
Harry was eager for more information. "What else did the article mention?"
Katie recalled, "Not much, it was just a portion of her column. There was some information about the Dark Mark being He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's personal symbol, only cast by members of his inner circle, some of whom have escaped from Azkaban." She paused for a moment, then slipped off the arm of the chair to sit beside Harry. "She also speculated about why the mark might have been cast over Godric's Hollow."
Harry's face darkened. "My parents."
Katie nodded solemnly. "The Daily Prophet suggested it was Black claiming responsibility for their deaths."
Harry expressed his skepticism. "I doubt they'll ever actually catch him, Sirius Black or not. They couldn't keep him in Azkaban, and they haven't found him in two years."
Katie observed Harry's apparent lack of concern. "You don't seem all that bothered by it. The Dark Mark was cast over your parents' house."
Harry responded matter-of-factly, "They died when I was a baby, Katie, and everyone knows who killed them. The house is just a memorial. I've never set foot inside it. There isn't much of a reason for me to care. I'd rather they were casting conspicuous magical signs in the sky than murdering people."
Katie, however, held a more apprehensive view. "Maybe they're just getting started."
Harry acknowledged her concern with a simple, "Maybe they are."
Katie lightened the mood, gesturing towards the students making their way out of the portrait. "Enough of the gloomy talk. It's DA time."
Harry playfully shoved Katie out of his chair and onto the floor, but she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. She reminded him of his promise, "Oh no you don't, Harry. You said you'd be coming to this one."
Harry realized he couldn't escape his commitment. "I did, didn't I? I might as well get it over and done with, then." He extended a hand to help Katie up.
Katie laughed and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She playfully teased him, "Such a gentleman. No wonder Frenchie's so smitten. What other boy could hope to compete?"
Harry felt a twinge of insecurity but managed a chuckle. "I do my best."
Katie playfully nudged him toward the portrait and the upcoming meeting. "Come on, lover boy. You can daydream later."
As he made his way toward the portrait, he was startled by Ginny's voice right next to his ear. "Harry."
A rush of cold shock surged through him. "Ginny?"
Ginny nervously twisted her fingers together and stared at her feet before taking a deep breath and straightening up. "I was wondering about something—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Katie emerged from the passage and collided with Harry's back. "Ow."
Ginny gathered her composure and continued, "I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade next weekend," she blurted.
Harry winced at the question. "Ginny, we talked about this. I'm sorry, I can't."
Ginny pushed further, her eyes filled with curiosity and hope. "Can't or don't want to?"
"Both," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I don't want to keep leading you on, Ginny. I just don't see you like that, I'm afraid."
Ginny looked past Harry at Katie, who came to his rescue. "He's busy," Katie chimed in.
Ginny nodded in understanding. "I see. I just had to ask, Harry. I promised myself that I'd ask one more time, and if you said no, then I'd move on for good."
Harry watched a blue beetle crawl along Ginny's shoulder and sighed. "I am sorry, Ginny. I don't think you'd enjoy dating me right now, anyway."
Katie provided support, saying, "There are plenty of other guys who'd be lucky to be with you."
Ginny's eyes flashed briefly with frustration. "Just not the one I want. I'll see you at the meeting, Harry." She turned and walked away, the blue beetle drifting off her shoulder as she descended the staircase.
Harry let out a quiet mutter, "That could have gone worse. I thought she was over her infatuation with heroes."
Katie, however, wasn't entirely satisfied. "It could have gone better too. Did you see how she looked at us?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "With her eyes?"
Katie explained, "She thinks the reason you can't go with her is me."
Harry realized the potential problem. "Oh."
Katie continued, "Exactly. Do you think she'll tell anyone?"
Harry was genuinely concerned about the repercussions. "Will she talk to her friends about why she's upset over you turning her down?"
Katie shook her head. "Sometimes, Harry, you're very perceptive, but other times I wonder if you understand girls at all."
Harry chuckled, acknowledging his limitations. "I don't. You're all weird."
"Tell that to Frenchie," Katie retorted. "And speaking of..."
Harry's heart sank. "If Ginny tells people, everyone will start believing it."
Fleur might not take that news well.
"Do you think anyone will believe it?" he asked, concerned about the potential fallout.
A hint of pink colored Katie's cheeks. "Well, not to put too fine a point on it, Harry, but we are close friends, and we do have history."
Harry couldn't help but utter a French expletive.
Harry realized that if everyone thought he was dating Katie, Fleur might not take it well. He muttered, "Fleur will definitely kill me if she learns everyone thinks I'm dating Katie."
Katie couldn't help but tease him, patting him on the cheek. "Awww. You've started picking up cute Frenchie words."
Harry scowled and hurried up the stairs. "That's not a very cute word. I'll have to tell Ginny we're not a thing at the DA before she talks to anyone."
Katie bounced after him and caught his wrist. "You aren't going to tell her about Frenchie, are you? I thought you were keeping her a secret."
Harry considered his options. "I won't tell anyone about Fleur who doesn't already know. If she asks, I guess I just won't answer."
Katie remained skeptical. "She won't believe you. It sounds fishy."
Harry shared his concern, "It's Fleur hearing about it that concerns me. Ginny will get over it."
Katie's fingers slipped from his arm, and she shifted her gaze. "Right. Of course. You could always swear an Unbreakable Vow to Frenchie that we're just friends. It's not like we're actually doing anything."
Harry contemplated the suggestion. "It's risky, but I'd rather do that than have her misunderstand and leave."
Katie pointed out, "You'd rather permanently bind your life and magic to her than have her upset with you? That's very committed, Harry."
Blushing, Harry moved toward the door on the seventh floor. "Hush, you."
Katie giggled, teasing him. "You're so sweet. Clearly, I'm a lucky girl."
Harry playfully shot back, "As if I'd date a violent Quidditch fanatic like you again."
Katie pouted at him. "We both know you'd be more than happy to see me in that seashell bra. Or not in the seashell bra."
Harry paused, realizing the need for caution. "We should probably avoid making jokes like that for a while."
Katie's lips twisted in agreement. "Fine. I'll hold back when there are gullible idiots nearby."
Harry offered a reassuring smile. "Thanks, Katie. You can still make as many silly jokes about us as you like when there's nobody listening." He pushed the door open.
Katie whispered in his ear, "I'll hold you to that."
As they entered the room, Cedric addressed the assembled members of the DA. "Ah, the teacher arrives. Neville was beginning to fear you weren't coming."
Harry replied, "I promised I would."
The DA members watched him with cautious eyes, and Hermione, in particular, appeared restless, tapping her wand against her palm.
"Alright, let's get on with it, then," Harry announced, striding into the center of the room. "The Patronus Charm is more advanced than anything else you'll likely be learning in Defense at Hogwarts. It creates a partially tangible form of positive emotion and intent. The steps are relatively simple; you need only focus on a positive emotion and speak the incantation, but having the ability to cast it is another matter entirely."
He motioned for the students to spread out from each other. "Can anyone produce a Patronus of any sort?" Harry glanced at Cedric, who shook his head.
Cedric admitted, "Nope. If I knew how, you wouldn't have nearly died when dementors interrupted our Quidditch game in third—"
Hermione eagerly stepped forward, exclaiming, "I can! It's not a proper one like yours, but I can cast it."
Harry suppressed a sigh, knowing Hermione's determination well. "Show everyone."
Hermione raised her wand, her face radiating pride, and closed her eyes. She incanted, "Expecto Patronum." A rush of silver vapor shot from her wand, forming a shining shield between her and Harry.
Harry complimented her, "That's very impressive. Self-taught, I presume."
Hermione, her cheeks reddening, admitted, "Yes."
Harry inquired, "How long have you been trying? Since the end of third year when you realized I could do it?"
Hermione shuffled her feet and apologized, "Yes, Harry."
Harry encouraged the group, "You heard the incantation. Hermione pronounced it perfectly. Focus on the happiest memory you have or imagine something that will make you even happier, then cast."
Ginny was eager to learn, asking, "Which do you use?"
Harry provided a vague response, "Whichever comes easiest."
The truth was he hadn't tried since the Triwizard Maze.
Cedric asked, "Can you show us yours?"
Harry hesitated but then pictured his parents in the Mirror of Erised, with Fleur's figure inadvertently creeping in between them. He incanted, "Expecto Patronum." A bright cloud of silver vapor burst from his wand, hovering in front of him. The vapor twisted and churned, resembling smoke caught on the wind.
Smith voiced his skepticism, "I thought you said you could form a corporeal Patronus."
Ron vouched for Harry, "We all saw it at Quidditch in our third year when Malfoy tried to pretend to be a dementor."
Terry Boot added, "Stags don't have feathers."
Harry's gaze returned to the mist, and he noticed the ghost-like feathers at the edges of the vapor. They shivered and flared as if catching a breeze. He quickly dispersed it, not wanting them to see the true form of his Patronus.
Hermione clarified, "A Patronus takes on a corporeal form unique to the caster. It usually takes the shape of the animal the caster shares the deepest affinity with."
Smith taunted, "He probably doesn't want us to see what it is. It's likely a snake."
Terry Boot retorted, "With feathers?" He shot a scathing look at Smith, who muttered something under his breath and moved back into the crowd.
Hermione observed, "It's changed… A corporeal Patronus only changes when the caster has experienced a significant emotional upheaval. The book mentions that events like loss, love, and betrayal can lead to changes in Patronuses."
"Perhaps you should all try casting your own versions now," Harry suggested, slipping his wand back up his sleeve. "As entertaining as listening to Hermione's rendition of the textbook is, you're here to learn how to cast it, not guess which feathered creature mine is. The dementors are unlikely to be deterred from taking your souls just because you know the form of my Patronus."
The members of the DA split up and began casting. A few wisps of silver shot from several wands, dispersing into the air.
Harry advised them, "Pick your happiest memory and let yourself really feel it. Or, if that doesn't work, imagine something that would make you happy and use that."
Katie, after a glance in Harry's direction, closed her eyes and resumed casting. Silver mist gushed from her wand, growing tight and dense about a meter from its tip, eventually taking the form of a crow.
She pouted and commented, "Well, that wasn't what I was expecting."
Fred laughed and teased his twin, "But it explains a lot."
George joined in with playful dramatics, "Oh great Dark Mistress."
Harry acknowledged her achievement, saying, "Well done for being the first." He surveyed the room. "Cedric, Hermione, and Neville look like they're getting fairly close now too."
A silver badger formed from Cedric's wand and patrolled a small circle around his feet. He grinned at Harry and acknowledged, "It was inevitable that it'd be a badger, wasn't it?"
Harry commented humorously, "Badgers are actually violent, vicious creatures. Yours looks like a spaniel in cosplay."
Cedric chuckled, "Bit harsh. But probably fair. They absolutely ravage Dad's lawn. Worse than gnomes, apparently."
Hermione's Patronus, a silver otter, chattered and scampered around her feet. Harry recognized that her success was imminent.
He took Ginny aside, a faint pang of regret rippling through him.
A glimmer of hope flickered in Ginny's eyes as she asked, "Harry?"
He confessed, "I'm not with Katie. I'm not with anyone. I just don't want to have to listen to all the rumors. Katie doesn't need that."
Ginny inquired, "Is she why your Patronus changed? From before the Yule Ball?"
Harry considered the question. "I don't think so. I felt like a lot of people turned on me then—loss and betrayal."
Ginny noted, "Not love, then."
Harry suppressed a small smile, thinking of Fleur. "Definitely not."
Ginny assured him, "I wasn't going to tell anyone. I might've told my friends that I thought you were with someone else, but I thought you and Katie were trying to keep it a secret and just act like you were friends."
Harry emphasized, "We are just friends."
Ginny noticed Katie watching and returned to practicing her Patronus. A gleaming silver wolf padded around Neville, nuzzling at his wand hand with its muzzle.
Harry, intrigued, waved to Katie and moved toward the chamber, wondering what form his Patronus would take.
At the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, he greeted Myrtle, "Myrtle?"
She shot out of the wall and twirled on the spot. "Harry! I had visitors at lunchtime yesterday. First years, or maybe second years. They were very small. They wanted to know if there was anything special about the bathroom."
Harry's anxiety grew. "Did they decide on anything?"
Myrtle shared, "They never found anything, but nobody who comes here does."
He made a plea, "If they come back, please tell me, Myrtle. You don't know how important it is to me that the entrance remains a secret."
Myrtle agreed, "I'll tell you, Harry. I always know when someone's in here. I can feel it."
Harry thanked her, saying, "I appreciate it, Myrtle."
She fiddled with her glasses and encouraged him, "Come visit me whenever you want."
Harry promised, "I'll do my best to say hi." He turned to the sink and used Parseltongue to open the chamber. "Open." He descended the steps and arrived at the top of the bridge. "Mother, I'm home," he called out.
"Welcome back, darling," Salazar greeted Harry. He pried his snake off his forehead and inquired, "Are you here to learn something useful, or are you off to France again?"
Harry explained, "I was wondering what you knew about the Patronus Charm? Mine appears to have changed."
Salazar peered down at him and asked, "Changed?"
Harry elaborated, "It used to be a stag, then I was almost unable to cast it, and now it seems to be something feathered, though I haven't cast a complete corporeal charm yet."
Salazar found it interesting and said, "The charm is very old, one of the obvious, emotion-related concepts of magic, but very hard to produce. My own Patronus changed form twice, for different reasons."
Harry asked, "When did it change?"
Salazar responded, "If you wanted to know why, you could've just asked. It was originally a regular serpent, but when I met my wife and we had our daughter, it changed and became a runespoor. I was very proud of it. After my wife's death and the beginning of my quest to try and undo the sacrifice I made, it changed again, shifting to the form of a moth. It remained a moth until I stopped being able to cast it."
Harry questioned, "You stopped being able to cast it?"
Salazar explained, "You said you were almost unable to cast it, when was that?"
Harry recalled, "In the maze during the third task. It wasn't the best time for me, not much was going well. Even happy memories and thoughts didn't really reach me."
Salazar pointed out, "Then you already know why. I told you that those who commit themselves to escaping death are consumed by their quest. By the end of my life, everything else had lost meaning, and I'd all but given up. My happiest memories were tainted."
Harry understood and said, "I see."
Salazar encouraged him, "You have Fleur Delacour now, so cast the charm and show me."
Harry closed his eyes and reached for the warmth of the sun through the willow leaves, the quiet sounds of the river and the wind in the grass, the sweet scent of marzipan, and the taste of Fleur's lips. He focused on the blue of her eyes, the silver of her hair, the slight curve of her pout, and the softness in her gaze when she looked at him. He thought, "Perfect. As she always is."
Then, he incanted, "Expecto Patronum."
Heat surged up Harry's arm from his wand, and a majestic eagle erupted from it in an explosion of silver vapor. The eagle spread its wings wide and surveyed Harry's surroundings with keen intelligence.
Salazar observed, "An eagle..."
Harry corrected him, "That's not an eagle, Harry." Salazar's green eyes softened, and a corner of his mouth quirked up. "That is an Anzu, a giant bird supposedly capable of magically breathing fire. They went extinct millennia ago and are only found in the oldest stories of Mesopotamia, their homeland."
Harry marveled, "An extinct, fire-breathing eagle. I like it."
Salazar shared, "A new Patronus with the form of an ancient Mesopotamian magical bird... Do you know where the first veela are supposed to have come from? I don't think it's any mystery what caused this change."
Harry wondered, "I like my eagle. Is that really why it's that form? Because of Fleur?"
Salazar explained, "It's an Anzu. Most eagles would disappear under its wings. And it seems that way. Mine changed because I found my wife, then when I lost her. Helga's never changed from a phoenix, Rowena's was always an owl, and Godric's Patronus was a griffin for as long as I knew him, but he mentioned it changed when his parents died."
Harry marveled at the size of the Anzu and inquired, "It's actually that large in real life? You know, I sort of expected the other founders' Patronuses to be the same as the house sigils."
Salazar shrugged, displacing his snake. He answered, "They were extinct long before I was alive. But the corporeal form of your Patronus takes on the exact shape of the animal as far as I understand, so probably." He peered down at Harry and continued, "And why would you assume we would give away so much information about ourselves when choosing house sigils? Rowena chose a bird famous for its intelligence, I chose the serpent because nobody would expect anything else from me, Godric wanted to choose a griffin, but I told him that would look vain, so he chose half a griffin instead, and Helga just liked badgers. She thought they were adorable."
Harry sighed, reflecting, "That completely ruins my image of the four of you being the perfect embodiment of your houses' traits."
Salazar countered, "Rowena's is fairly accurate. Mine, too. Godric would've hated the students in his house, if what I've heard from you is true. He valued bravery, loyalty, and forgiveness above all else."
Harry questioned, "What about Helga?"
Salazar revealed, "She loved children. Helga spoiled every child she met; her nephews and nieces adored her more than they did their parents. It wouldn't matter which house you were in to her as long as she could mother you."
Harry pondered, "I wonder how Slytherin ended up having such a bad reputation."
Salazar gave a bitter laugh and explained, "The blame lies partly with myself and partly with the traits I valued. Ambition, cunning, intelligence, and bravery can all be used to do terrible things, but while bravery can be foolish and intelligence misapplied, cunning can only really be outdone by others. It did not help that I dabbled greatly in dangerous magic in the final years of my life. That would have attracted a great many wizards and witches of questionable morals to my house."
Harry noted, "Like Tom Riddle."
Salazar added, "He was nearly sorted into both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, actually. His ambition outweighed his desire for knowledge and the loyalty he felt toward a world that accepted him when his did not, but only just."
A sense of sadness enveloped Harry as he commented, "If only the magical world hadn't turned its back on him like the muggle one."
Salazar reflected, "If he'd chosen either of Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, it might not have done, but his desire was too strong, and he did. There's little point regretting it now. I watched him change from Tom Riddle to Voldemort with pride and said nothing, not realizing how much he'd lost from himself in his becoming until it was too late."
Harry questioned, "Could you have stopped him before he changed too much?"
Salazar looked at Harry with shadows in his eyes, deep and dark as dusk. He replied, "I believe so. I hope so."
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