The peace and quiet didn't last a week.
Friday after classes saw another meeting of our anonymous Defence Against the Dark Arts enthusiasts' club — the sort that even the arrogant and self-assured Malfoy attends. The reason was simple enough: Flitwick had no intention of reinstating the Duelling Club and, in all likelihood, wouldn't do so until next year. But that's beside the point.
At that evening's session, the great Potter was demonstrating to us all the arcane science of conjuring a corporeal Patronus. Yes, my thoughts were thoroughly laced with irony on the subject — particularly watching the surprised and awed expressions on many faces, even among the older students — but I myself cannot produce a corporeal Patronus. Or more precisely, I have never managed to bring mine to corporeal form. Perhaps I lack sufficient emotional investment, or something else entirely; perhaps I simply haven't pushed hard enough. Difficult to say.
In any case, my classmates and I were standing apart as a group, discussing a couple of rather absurd counter-jinx theories, when Potter launched into his demonstration and explanation.
"Anyone else," Justin addressed the group — which had acquired Draco and Daphne as additions — "feeling an acute sense of their own superiority right now?"
"About all of this?" Hannah nodded toward Potter, around whom a spectral stag was bounding, surrounded by students who were decidedly not spectral.
"Yeah."
"A bit," Ernie agreed, nodding. "Honestly, when we first started practising so regularly and systematically — on Hector's account, so he could settle in faster — I never imagined the gap between us and everyone else would end up this pronounced."
"What are you on about?" Draco inserted himself into the conversation with his customary smirk, deploying all the grace of a rhinoceros.
"Oh, nothing really," Hannah said, brushing it off. "Just that the chasm in ability between the idle and the dedicated gets more apparent every day. Even if the dedicated ones aren't especially talented."
"True enough," Draco said, with an important nod. "Father always told me that great things awaited me — being not only a pureblood but a Malfoy. What he neglected to mention was that it required a great deal of work. Had he been adding that part since I was small, I might have been spared a couple of rather gruelling summers of training."
"You know, Hector," Susan said with a smile, "don't you want to listen to Potter's instruction on the Patronus? He might say something that gives you the last piece you're missing for the corporeal form."
"Praise Merlin!" Malfoy threw his hands up toward the ceiling. "There's actually something he can't do!"
While we'd been talking, Harry had been dispensing useful guidance to the rest of the room, and many had begun attempting the Patronus — without success, naturally, though I was fairly confident they'd master it faster than we had in our day. Age and accumulated experience would tell, even if the difference wasn't enormous. And once he'd finished with that, he naturally couldn't fail to notice the cluster of students who had ignored his instruction entirely — namely us — and made his way over, Ron in tow. As if the ginger was ever anywhere else. He had colonised every inch of Harry's personal space since Hermione had pulled back somewhat from constant contact with them.
"Don't you lot want to learn the Patronus?" Harry asked, reaching us. "It's a useful charm — good against Dementors. The Dark Lord employed them for his own ends more than once in the last war."
"We know how," Hannah replied on everyone's behalf. "Learned it in third year."
"Oh, that's brilliant." Potter smiled. "In that case, could you help some of the others? I can't be everywhere at once."
"That's an idea," Justin agreed, nodding. "Shall we?"
"I'll stay and listen to Potter," Draco said, crossing his arms. "I never studied this charm."
"Nor did I," Daphne added. "Hector?"
"Same. Potter might mention something I've been missing."
Ron snorted, looking at Draco.
"Malfoy himself, not knowing a charm? And going to learn it from Potter?"
Nobody acknowledged him. At all. It was no secret by now that this was the simplest way to handle Ron when he was trying to needle someone or carelessly blundering through whatever thought had crossed his mind. The boy was genuinely gifted when it came to unintentional offence.
In any case, Harry gave a brisk account of how to produce the Patronus Charm by the textbook, relayed Lupin's thoughts on the subject, and explained how he did it himself. Regrettably, none of it told me anything new.
"What's the sigh for, Granger? Too difficult?" Ron caught the faint disappointment in my expression.
"I just didn't find anything to work with."
"What do you mean?" Harry adjusted his round glasses.
"Every other form of the Patronus comes through — mist, shield, wave. The corporeal form won't."
"Isn't the wave form harder than the corporeal?" Weasley bristled. "You're having us on."
Rather than answer I simply drew my wand, aimed it at the ceiling, and cast the wave Patronus. The tip of the wand blazed with intense blue light, and from it waves of blue radiance began spreading outward — less like light, more like slow shock waves rippling through the air. It drew everyone's attention, though I didn't hold the spell long.
"There. And the corporeal one won't come, no matter what I do," I concluded.
"I can't help you with that one," Potter admitted without any offence or frustration. "Professor Lupin taught up to the corporeal form at most. Though he did mention the wave variant... I think it requires considerably more power, but the focus should be less on the memory itself and more on the emotion."
"Yes," I said simply. "But whatever I focus on, I always end up with that."
"Oh, for goodness' sake," Weasley said dismissively. "I could do better than that anyway. He's just trying to look impressive."
"That's it!" Harry grinned. "Ron — you're a genius."
"Er... yeah, I am."
"Hector." Harry turned his gaze to me. "What if, in terms of sheer power, you've simply bypassed the corporeal form entirely?"
"That thought crossed my mind too," I said, "but when I try to control the output, the Patronus comes out completely useless. And without control, following the instructions — it just comes out powerful."
"What if you tried with an incompatible wand?" Daphne offered. "An ill-matched wand significantly weakens spell output. What's yours?"
Recalling Ollivander's words, I recited them, holding the wand in front of me:
"Thirteen inches, acacia with a unicorn hair core. Reasonably supple. Powerful and versatile, though it does not accept Dark Magic..."
An interesting detail I kept letting slip from my mind. How to make sense of "does not accept Dark Magic" when I used it quite successfully regardless? Could it be that if I switched to a different wand — slightly less well-matched, perhaps, but one that did "accept" — spells involving Dark Magic would become more powerful, or produce some other change?
My description of the wand, incidentally, provoked a remarkable degree of scepticism from Malfoy — almost surprising in its intensity. Well, naturally — he'd watched me in Duelling Club, quite freely and very effectively drenching a training dummy with Sectumsempra, the very spell Draco had shown me. I'd have doubted my own words too.
"Hmm... dragon heartstring would've been the one," Daphne said thoughtfully. "As it stands... I honestly couldn't say off the top of my head which wand would suit you poorly enough."
"Not to worry," I smiled at the group. "I'll try another time. I could always nip into Kiddell's on Diagon Alley when there's an opportunity and ask him to find me a deliberately incompatible one. He's no Ollivander — he won't have a cardiac episode at the request."
"Right then," Harry said, glancing around the room, evidently assessing where he was needed, and apparently spotting his next target. "Since you know the Patronus already, Hector, would you mind showing Malfoy and Greengrass if anything comes up?"
"Of course."
"Brilliant." Harry set off for the far end of the Room of Requirement — and crucially, took Weasley with him. Why couldn't the sixth Weasley son be as reasonable as the rest of the family?
"Well then, Professor Granger," Draco said with a smirk. "Teach us."
"Not a problem."
Theory, practice, back to theory, back to practice — a fairly exhausting process for many, but time passed without one noticing. I kept half an eye on the others' progress, and on the general movement of the room: who was talking to whom, who was practising with whom, and so on. Noise, chatter, students increasingly frustrated at their near-total lack of progress — only a couple had produced any sort of wisp from the tip of the wand. Even so, that was already something. It seemed these students hadn't yet encountered complex charms and spells of the kind that were essentially impossible to produce on the first attempt.
It was at that moment that Potter grabbed his forehead in a sudden spasm of pain. The attack appeared severe — the boy didn't merely stagger; he went straight down to the floor. He'd been standing apart from the main group, in the company of Ron and Hermione — they'd been discussing lesson plans, arguing and alternately jabbing at diagrams on a board.
Potter was down, and it could hardly go unnoticed. Ron and Hermione tried to bring him round, without success. Everyone else stood frozen, unsure what to do — the usual response: shock, incomprehension. I was about to go over and ascertain what had happened when it nearly passed on its own. The decision was made to end the session, and everyone began to disperse, looking mildly concerned. I left among the last, walking with Daphne, and caught, just barely, the sound of Ron and Hermione insisting Potter go to the Headmaster — that he needed to "tell him about Voldemort." Was I curious? Mildly.
Daphne and I had already come downstairs at an unhurried pace, talking through the day's events, when Madam Sprout came to meet us.
"Mr Granger."
"Head of House."
"The Headmaster asked you to come to his office."
"Now?"
"Yes."
I had to take my leave of Daphne — our usual few stolen moments of nonsense, appropriated from us without warning. I declined the escort Sprout offered and made my way to the Headmaster's office at a fair pace. The gargoyle was absent, the spiral staircase unobstructed, the office door ajar. I caught, just barely, Potter's voice:
"...he's furious. Something deeply unpleasant has happened to him. He's angry at the Ministry."
My arrival in the office — the lighting slightly subdued — silenced Harry at once.
"Headmaster." I nodded to Dumbledore, who was standing near his desk, and noticing Snape, nodded to him as well. "Professor. You sent for me."
"Indeed, Mr Granger. Severus?"
"Starting tomorrow," Snape said, barely concealing his displeasure, "you and Mr Potter will attend additional private lessons with me. You will be learning Occlumency. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir. Was it necessary to summon me here for that?"
"You are welcome to direct your complaints," Snape dropped the pretence of mild irritation entirely, "to the Headmaster directly, as he happens to be standing in front of you."
"I considered," Dumbledore began, "that such changes to your schedule were better communicated in the evening, while Saturday plans are still being made. Had you learned of this in the morning, you would have been considerably put out. But there is something else I wished to say to you. Harry, Severus — you may go."
Potter and Snape left the office, leaving us alone.
"Mr Granger. I have some welcome news. A certain wizard of our mutual acquaintance, in whose house you stayed not long ago, has agreed to pass on to you some books he was intending to dispose of."
I understood immediately who Dumbledore meant. It seemed Black had finally sorted through the house and gone through his library.
"I tell you this in advance so that you may prepare a secure place to keep them. Some of these books contain knowledge and subject matter that a great many students ought not to encounter."
"Understood. Thank you, I suppose?"
"Oh, don't mention it," Dumbledore said, with a wave of his hand along his silver beard. "He would have thrown them out regardless, and that would have been a waste. There is nothing truly terrible among them — I took the liberty of removing certain manuscripts. I trust you understand."
"Of course, Headmaster." I smiled. "The human mind, in its more elaborate flights of imagination, is capable of conceiving and creating things that would have been better left unconceived. I wouldn't be surprised if the same holds true of magic."
"I am glad you appreciate that."
The conversation was over, and I returned to the common room. Something was happening. More information was needed.
Part of that information reached all of us the following morning via the Prophet. It transpired that the Auror Office had, by some means, tracked down the location where the Dark Lord was in hiding. Working in concert with the DMLE, the Aurors had struck the Dark Lord's headquarters the moment his identity was confirmed.
The article stated that the Dark Lord — whose return had not yet been officially confirmed at the time — had been tracked thanks to the intensive efforts of both the DMLE and the Auror Office, acting on Minister Crouch's orders. No small part had been played by the Dark Lord's own movements in the company of several associates, as well as the timely "cooperation with the government of responsible wizards" — that was the precise phrasing used. The Dark Lord had been identified by a pair of veterans from the last conflict, his headquarters compromised, and Crouch had given the order — enough Ministry funds spent, time to address the problem decisively.
A confrontation ensued, in the course of which both sides suffered losses. Two Death Eaters killed, an unspecified number wounded, five werewolves dead. The Ministry's exact casualty figures were not disclosed, though three had been killed. Indirect reports from St. Mungo's suggested the number of wounded was considerable.
"Now that there can be no doubt as to You-Know-Who's return" — a direct quote attributed to Minister Crouch — "I call upon all citizens to exercise the utmost responsibility. Auror Office and Department of Magical Law Enforcement personnel will be maintaining permanent watch at key locations and sites of potential Death Eater activity. I urge the public to contact the Auror Office and DMLE immediately at the first sign or suspicion of You-Know-Who's activity. I also wish to announce that by my decree, dated this day, DMLE and Auror Office personnel are, with the full approval of the International Confederation of Wizards, authorised to use the Unforgivable Curses."
"Bloody hell," said Justin — and the words expressed exactly what everyone around him was thinking.
Something was happening. One needed to be genuinely on guard.
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