Year Three, Chapter Eleven
"It's lucky Dumbledore caught her,"
"It's lucky Malfoy broke his leg,"
Harry woke to the sounds of whispered voices and blinked her eyes open groggily. She was in the Hospital Wing, and nothing seemed to hurt too badly. Surrounding her bed were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and what looked to be the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Wh -what happened?" Harry asked, her voice hoarse.
"The Dementors came onto the pitch, but Dumbledore and the other teachers drove them off," Ron said. Hermione was standing next to him, her eyes bloodshot. Ron had his arm around her shoulders, and Ginny was patting her on the back slowly.
"Oh... wait, what about the match? Are we getting a replay?" Harry asked, suddenly sitting up and realising that while lying down didn't hurt too badly, sitting up did. She must be one giant bruise, she thought.
"After you and Malfoy went down, the Slytherin team scattered from the Dementors. Wood and Angelina managed to stay on the pitch, and she put enough points through the hoops before anyone else got back that we won on points," Fred said, grinning. Harry smiled.
"I bet Flint wasn't happy about that," Harry said.
"Nearly cursed me right in front of Madam Hooch," Wood said, pausing for a moment. "That was after he'd asked for the match to be called on points without realising we'd scored a dozen goals while his entire team was gone, mind you," Wood continued. Harry laughed uproariously, despite the pain it caused her.
"Did any of you get my broom?" Harry asked. She'd fallen from hundreds of feet up in the air, but maybe someone had seen it. Everyone looked around awkwardly, and Harry felt tears well in her eyes. Her broom was her most prized possession, and as George silently unwrapped a bundle of shattered wood and twigs, Harry knew it was gone.
"Sorry, mate. By the time any of us found it, it had already been blown right into the whomping willow," George said, all his usual humour absent.
Harry felt like a failure. She might not have lost Gryffindor the game, but she certainly hadn't won it - Draco Malfoy breaking his leg had done that. Without a broom of her own, she'd be stuck on school brooms for the rest of the season - and that would lose Gryffindor games.
"Cheer up, Harry. I know you loved it, but in case you forgot, you have loads of gold and can just buy a new one in Hogsmeade," Ginny said, as she hugged Harry. Harry blushed, feeling like a bit of an idiot.
"I - I just feel bad for fainting and nearly losing Gryffindor the match. What if it happens again?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore did not seem happy about the Dementors being there, and they got out pretty quickly when he summoned that silver bird," Alica said, patting Harry gently on the arm.
"We are going to hold try-outs for a reserve seeker, though. You're the best in the competition, Harry, but you do have an alarmingly high off-pitch injury rate," Wood said, a little awkwardly. Harry laughed loudly, causing everyone to stare at her.
"Only you would call multiple run-ins with dark wizards an "alarmingly high off-pitch injury rate", Wood. But... I mean, I could get injured during a match just like anybody else. A reserve seeker is a good idea - hey, Ginny. You should try out," Harry said, remembering how agile Ginny had been on a broom during their informal Quidditch games at the Weasley's. Ginny blushed redder than her hair.
Madam Pomfrey kept Harry in the hospital wing that weekend, and after Harry had gotten changed out of her Quidditch robes she understood why. Whatever Dumbledore had caught her with, she was still bruised all over. During that first night, Harry wondered at the dog she thought she'd seen on top of the stands. It did look a little like the illustration of the Grim in her Divination textbook, but Harry thought it looked more like the one she'd seen out of the corner of her eye walking back to Hermione's house.
Over that weekend, Harry was visited by a veritable parade of well-wishers. Some combination of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny always seemed to be there, and everyone from Dean Thomas to Lavender Brown came to wish her well. Even Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw Harry had met on the train, came by to wish her a speedy and Nargle free recovery.
Draco Malfoy was, wisely on the part of Madam Pomfrey, in a bed at the other end of the Hospital Wing. He had a ludicrously large stack of gifts next to his bed, and Harry saw his parents come and visit him. Draco's mother was an attractive woman with dyed blonde hair, but her face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual scowl. Lucius Malfoy very carefully didn't look at Harry, who amused herself by making funny faces at him whilst his back was turned.
Malfoy's leg was in a cast of some kind, and from what Harry could overhear it had been a very nasty break, but a repairable one. Magical medicine could put nearly any mundane injury back as good as new - Wizards tended to only get permanent injuries from dark magic. Professor Kettleburn had lost three arms, four legs, and five eyes during his tenure as Care of Magical Creatures professor, but only one of the legs had been permanent. That had been bitten off by a rouge manticore, the dark magic inherent in the creature preventing magical healing beyond sealing off the wound.
On Monday, Harry walked into Defence Against the Dark Arts with a grim expression on her face. After the last lesson with Snape, she was dreading another. But as she entered the classroom, a smile broke out on her face as she saw a somewhat sickly looking Remus Lupin standing at the front of the class.
"I'm sorry for missing a lesson class. I understand that Professor Snape rather misunderstood my syllabus and assigned you an essay on Werewolves?" Lupin said, and there was a great intake of breath amongst the class.
"He did, professor. We tried to tell him we weren't up to them yet, but..." Hermione said, trailing off.
"Not to worry, Hermione. I've talked to Professor Snape, and he's agreed to waive the essay," Lupin said, and there was a huge cheer amongst the class.
"But I've already done it," Hermione said despairingly. Everyone laughed, but it was a fond sort of laugh, and even Hermione saw the funny side.
After class, Lupin asked Harry to stay behind. She felt excitement build inside her at that because it could only be about one thing - Lupin was ready to teach her to fight Dementors. She eagerly followed Lupin back into his office and accepted a now-familiar teacup from him.
"I was going to put this off until after the holidays - I have rather a lot to do this term - but after your alarming run-in with them, I think it best we at least get started," Lupin said.
"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, and she meant it. She drank a little bit of her tea as Lupin stood.
"The Patronus charm, Harry, is quite unlike any of the magic you've learned in class so far. It relies not on a clear image or intent of the spell in your mind, but emotion. To create a guardian formed from positive emotion, you need to concentrate on a happy memory as you cast your spell - a truly happy memory," Lupin explained, as he demonstrated the wand movement for her.
Harry remembered her readings in the restricted section and thought there was something familiar about the concept. Was this, then, 'light' magic specifically? Was there something special about emotion, about using love, happiness, or hate as opposed to intent in magic? Lupin led Harry back out into the classroom and took out a chest that shook violently. Harry felt her breath quicken as she realised what was inside - a Boggart.
"Now, the incantation is 'Expecto Patronum'. Let's try it without the Boggart first - keep your happy memory in your mind, and cast," Lupin said, standing back.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry said, waving her wand in the circle-then-thrust motion of the spell. She thought of using the polyjuice potion to be Pansy Parkinson, and on her first try silver light sparkled from the end of her wand. She tried again, and again, and then silvery mist emerged from it.
"Well done, Harry. Even a basic incorporeal Patronus at your age... ready to try it against the Boggart?" Lupin said. She nodded and steeled herself. Even if it wasn't as bad as the real thing, facing down a Boggart Dementor was scary enough.
Lupin opened the chest with a wave of his wand, and a Dementor emerged from it. Harry heard the high, cruel voice once more. She felt her nerves burn, but it was only a memory. Fighting through the pain, she levelled her wand at the Dementor.
"Expecto Patronum!" She shouted, keeping the memory of that day in Myrtle's bathroom clear in her mind. The silvery mist came again, but Tom's voice was louder and louder. The pain grew worse and worse, and her hand started to shake. The mist blew apart, and Harry felt the effect of the Dementor fully. She screamed, and then Lupin banished it back into the chest.
"I - I'm sorry, Harry. This was clearly too -" Lupin began, but Harry got to her feet and shook her head.
"I - I just picked the wrong memory, that's all. I can do this," Harry said, hating how her hand was still shaking.
"You might not be old enough to use it - if it's causing you pain, you might not be ready to channel that much magic yet," Lupin said, softly.
"It's... it's not the Patronus charm causing it. It's the Dementor. It makes me - it makes me remember being down in the Chamber," Harry said, not looking at Lupin. She paused for a moment, not wanting to say it out loud. Not wanting to admit her weakness. "When the Dementors get near me, I remember him using the cruciatus on me. Then I remember... other stuff," Harry said. She wasn't willing to talk about her other memories, the way she felt a sick sense of bloody-handed triumph or crushing dysphoria.
Lupin said nothing for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes.
"I - I can't put you through that again, Harry," Lupin said, his voice weak.
"I... please, professor. I need to learn this, or else it will just keep happening. Just one more shot?" Harry asked. She had a new memory in mind, this time. Lupin nodded slowly and stood back once more. The chest opened, and the Boggart Dementor rose up out of it.
Harry remembered walking up the stairs to the Girl's dorms. She remembered her thirteenth birthday party at the Burrow,. She remembered letting Lavender and Parvati do her makeup, and how happy she had been with Madam Pomfrey's potions even despite her sadness. She concentrated not on one memory in particular, but the sense of indescribable happiness she felt at being finally, herself.
"Expecto Patronum!" She shouted, and mist emerged from her wand. She felt the pain, heard Riddle's voice... but it was distant, like a radio playing in another room. She kept concentrating, and then something emerged out of the mist. A huge animal, with four slender legs, seemed to charge straight out of her wand. Harry couldn't see what it was, but it bowled the Boggart over and sent it scurrying back into the chest.
Harry released the spell, her hand shaking from both the effort and the memory. Her wand seemed almost warm to the touch, and she looked up at Lupin with a smile on her face.
"That was... merlin that was a corporeal Patronus," Lupin said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What memory did you use, if I may ask?"
"Lots of different ones... I guess just the sense of being happy that I could be a girl, and of being accepted" Harry said, blushing a little. It seemed almost selfish that such a sensation was her happiest memory.
"Acceptance can be a very powerful memory. I'm not surprised you were able to conjure a corporeal Patronus with it. And in the interests of not having me skinned alive by Madam Pomfrey, do take some of this chocolate," Lupin said, handing her a slim bar of Honeydukes milk chocolate.
Harry emerged from Lupin's office beaming, and she felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Ron and Hermione had been waiting around the corner, and they looked at her as she rounded it.
"Anti-dementor lessons go well, then?" Ron asked. Harry hugged him, and then Hermione. "I'll take that as a yes, then," Ron quipped.
"Yeah. Lupin taught me that spell to drive them off, and it needs a happy memory. I - it's just, you two were in a lot of them," Harry said, finding herself blinking back tears.
"Happy to help," Hermione said weakly, and they all had smiles on their faces as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room.
"Oh, there's a Hogsmeade weekend just before the Christmas break," Hermione said.
"That reminds me, Harry. Mum wanted me to tell you to come to the Burrow for Christmas," Ron said.
"Is that okay? I don't want to intrude..." Harry began, feeling awkward.
"She was pretty forceful in the letter, mate. Besides, you're basically an honourary Weasley anyway," Ron said.
"I guess I'll come then," Harry said with a smile.
"Don't get up to too much trouble over the break, you two," Hermione said, smiling.
