Antheia understood why Hermione had told Professor McGonagall but, she was still a little frustrated at her. Antheia didn't think it was her place to take away Harry's broom but she knew she had to stay with Hermione as both Harry and Ron were ignoring her.
Hermione spent most of her time in the library and remained convinced that she had acted for the best. Antheia often stayed at the library with her but she did miss messing around with Ron as she had never gone this long without talking to him. Harry and Antheia were in similar positions throughout this argument and it seemed like Ron had claimed Harry while Hermione had claimed Antheia. All in all, they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.
Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started.
"Had a good Christmas?" he said, and then, without waiting for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said, "I've been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one ... I mean ... we can't afford you to - well -"
Wood broke off, looking awkward.
"I'm working on it," said Harry quickly. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward the Dementors off. We should be starting this week; he said he'd have time after Christmas."
"Ah," said Wood, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case - I really didn't want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"
"No," said Harry.
"What! You'd better get a move on, you know - you can't ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"
"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," said Ron.
"A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A - a real Firebolt?"
"Don't get excited, Oliver," said Harry gloomily. "I haven't got it any more. It was confiscated." And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.
"Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?"
"Sirius Black," Harry said weakly. "He's supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it."
Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Wood said. "But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?"
"I know," said Harry, "but McGonagall still wants to strip it down -"
Wood went pale.
"I'll go talk to her, Harry," he promised. "I'll make her see reason ... a Firebolt ... a real Firebolt, on our team ... she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do ... I'll make her see sense ... a Firebolt ..."
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
Antheia was listening to Hermione explain her reasoning for what felt like the millionth time.
"I mean - that Firebolt is obviously dangerous and I'm sure it's only safe for Professor McGonagall to check it," said Hermione fiercely while flipping through The Science of Hippogriffs.
"Hermione, maybe you shouldn't have gone behind Harry's back like that," Antheia reasoned.
"Maybe you're right ... but now Ron and Harry are ignoring me and I just did what's best for their safety,"
"Mione, it'll be fine. Give it a couple of weeks and they'll have forgotten about it."
"I hope so. I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Theia. I know you want to talk to them."
"Well - yes. But, Ron already has Harry and besides, we have to work on the case for Buckbeak."
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
Lessons started again next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizard scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life-lines she had ever seen.
It was Defence Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to; after his conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his Anti-Dementor lessons as soon as possible.
"Ah yes," said Lupin, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class. "Let me see ... how about eight o'clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough ... I'll have to think carefully about how we're going to do this ... we can't bring a real Dementor into the castle to practice on ... by the way, would you mind bringing Antheia as well? She plays Quidditch, too so I want her to be prepared."
Harry felt it would be awkward to say they weren't very close as of now so he nodded and left the classroom to join Ron.
"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron, as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"
There was aloud and impatient "tuh" from behind them It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armour, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.
"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably.
"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.
"Yes, you were," said Ron. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you -"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.
"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.
"Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off, dragging Antheia by the arm.
"You know he's a werewolf, don't you?" Antheia asked.
"Yes ...," said Hermione.
"Hermione, please don't tell anyone. My dad hasn't been able to get a job for ages and he loves teaching here."
"I - I won't," Hermione decided.
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
At eight o'clock on Thursday evening, Harry nervously approached Antheia in the common room.
"Antheia? Professor Lupin said to bring you to Patronus lessons," Harry said, expecting Antheia to snap at him. But, to his surprise, she sounded perfectly friendly.
"Really? OK, then. Wait here, I'll get my wand," Antheia said, trotting up the girls' dormitories. They left Gryffindor Tower together for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when they arrived, but Harry lit the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binns' desk.
"What's that?" said Harry.
"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into Dementor when he sees you, and Antheia, you can stand behind Harry so the Boggart doesn't change, and we'll be able to practice on him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like."
Antheia hummed in understanding though her voice was quavering. Her mind flashed to the night on the train whenever she looked at the packing case.
"So ..." Professor Lupin had taken out his own wand and indicated that Harry and Antheia should do the same. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic - well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."
"How does it work?" said Harry nervously.
"Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of Anti-Dementor - a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor."
Professor Lupin continued, "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon - hope, happiness, the desire to survive - but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you two, that the Charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."
"What does a Patronus look like?" asked Antheia curiously.
"Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it."
"And how do you conjure it?"
"With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might on a single, very happy memory."
Antheia cast about for a happy memory. Perhaps she could try the time when she, Fred, and George had put Dungbombs in Ron's room. She remembered laughing harder than ever that day.
"Right," said Harry.
"The incantation is this -" Lupin cleared his throat, "expecto patronum!"
"Expecto patronum," Harry and Antheia both repeated under their breath. "Expect patronum."
"Concentrating hard on your memory?"
"Oh -" said Antheia, immediately thinking of her laughter with Fred and George. "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum -"
Something silvery whooshed suddenly out of both of their wands.
"Did you see that?" said Harry excitedly. "Something happened!"
"Very good," said Lupin, smiling. "Right then - ready to try it on a Dementor? Which of you'd like to go first?"
Antheia took one glimpse at the way Harry was trembling slightly and said, "I'll do it."
Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.
Even behind Harry, Antheia clearly saw a Dementor rise slowly from the box, its hooded face turning towards Harry and Antheia, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The Dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently towards them, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of cold broke over them -
"Expecto patronum!" Antheia cried. "Expecto -"
The classroom started fading and darkness fled over Antheia. She heard her mother's voice protesting against the death eaters before she fell.
"Antheia!"
Antheia woke with a start. She was lying on her back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. She realized what had happened.
"Are you alright?" asked Lupin.
"Can I have another go at it?" said Antheia as her father shoved a Chocolate Frog in her mouth.
"OK. But rest for a couple of minutes," Lupin said.
Antheia watched as Harry approached the Boggart and yelled, "Expecto Patronum! Expect Patronum! Expecto -"
Harry wobbled before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
"Harry? Harry!" said Antheia.
Harry jerked back awake.
"Sorry," he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down his glasses.
"Are you OK?" said Lupin.
"Yes ..." Harry pulled himself up on one of the desks and leant against it.
"Here -" Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect either of you to do it first time. In fact, I would have been astounded if you had."
"It's getting worse," Harry muttered, biting the Frog's head off. "I could hear her louder that time - and him - Voldemort -"
Lupin looked paler than usual.
"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand -"
"I do!" said Harry fiercely, stuffing the rest of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth. "I've got to! What if the Dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"
"All right then ..." said Lupin. "You two might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on ... those memories don't seem to have been strong enough ..."
After thinking hard, Antheia decided on when she was having a snowball fight with all the Weasleys and her father. It had been when she was eight, and she considered it the best day of her life so far.
"Ready?" said Lupin, gripping the box lid.
"Yes," said Antheia, concentrating on when she hit Ron square in the chest instead of her mother's dying words.
"Go!" said Lupin, pulling off the lid. The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forwards, drawing its rattly breath; one rotting hand was extending towards them -
"Expecto patronum!" Antheia yelled. Something silver shot straight out of her wand, and although her legs felt close to collapsing, Antheia forced herself to balance. An animal shot out her wand and pranced at the Dementor, forcing it to back away. It was a mare.
"Riddikulus!" Lupin exclaimed as Antheia fell into a chair, exhausted.
"That was excellent, Antheia, truly," her father praised as Harry grinned at her. Her father once again shoved chocolate in her mouth as Antheia panted. "That was your mother's Patronus, you know," Lupin said and Antheia formed a small smile.
Harry stepped up to the Boggart and when Lupin pulled off the lid, started yelling "Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto pat -"
White fog obscured his senses ... big, blurred shapes were moving around him ... then came a new voice, a man's voice, shouting, panicking -
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -"
The sounds of someone stumbling from a room - a door bursting open - a cackle of high-pitched laughter -
"Harry! Harry ... wake up ..."
Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face. This time it was a minute before Harry understood why he was lying on a dusty classroom floor.
"I heard my dad," Harry mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him - he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it ..."
Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with sweat. He bent his face low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace so that Lupin and Antheia wouldn't see.
"You heard James?" said Lupin, in a strange voice.
"Yeah ..." Face dry, Harry looked up. "Why - you didn't know my dad, did you?"
"I - I did, as a matter of fact," said Lupin. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry - perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced ... I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this ..."
"No!" said Harry. He got up again.
"Harry, are you sure?" Antheia said. "You could always try again another time -"
"I'll have one more go!" Harry interrupted. "I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that's what it is ... hang on ..."
He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory ... one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus ...
The moment when he'd first found out he was a wizard and would be leaving the Dursleys for Hogwarts! If that wasn't a happy memory, he didn't know what was ... concentrating very hard on how he had felt when he'd realized he'd be leaving Privet Drive, Harry got to his feet and faced the packing case once more.
"Ready?" said Lupin, who looked as though he was doing this against his better judgment. "Concentrating hard? All right - go!"
He pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark -
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The screaming inside Harry's head had started again - except this tie, it sounded as though it was coming from a badly tuned radio. Softer and louder and softer again ... and he could still see the Dementor ... it had halted ... and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and though Harry's legs felt like water, he was still on his feet ... though for how much longer, he wasn't sure ...
"Riddikulus!" roared Lupin, springing forwards.
There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just ran a mile, his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the Boggart back into the packing case with his wand; it had turned into a silvery orb again.
"That was great, Harry!" Antheia said, beaming at Harry.
"That was definitely a start!" Lupin said, walking over to where Harry sat.
"Can we have another go? Just one more go?" Harry pleaded.
"Not now," said Lupin firmly. "You've had enough for one night. Here -"
He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.
"Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"
"Sure," said Antheia. She watched as Harry bit into his chocolate and her father extinguish the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the Dementor.
A thought occurred to Harry.
"Professor Lupin?" he said. "If you knew my dad. You must've known Sirius Black as well."
Lupin turned very quickly.
"What gives you that idea?" he said sharply.
"Nothing - I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts, too ..."
Lupin's face relaxed.
"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You two better be off. It's getting late."
Harry and Antheia left the classroom. Antheia looked at Harry to see him staring blankly at his feet whilst walking.
"Harry?" Antheia said. "You did amazing for your third try."
"That was the first time I've ever heard my parents - or the first time that I remember, at least," Harry said.
"I know it must hurt, Harry. But I know they're looking down on you right now and if they were here, they'd be proud that you were able to produce even a small Patronus at the age of thirteen. Besides, I'm sure my father would be able to tell you about them; I think they were close," Antheia said, smiling warmly.
"You're the best, you know that?" Harry said, smiling faintly.
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He, therefore, increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin's Anti-Dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry had just one night a week to do all his homework. Even so, he wasn't showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione or Anthia, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to them. Every night, without fail, the two were to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books, Arithmancy charts, Rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; Hermione barely spoke to anybody, and snapped when she was interrupted. Antheia had snapped once or twice at Harry, but she attempted to stay calm towards others.
"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry one evening, as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione and Antheia were barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
"Doing what?"
"Getting to all their classes!" Ron said. "I heard Hermione talking to Professor Vector, that Arthimancy with, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me Hermione and Antheia's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them, either!"
Harry didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione and Antheia's impossible timetable at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape's essay. Two seconds later, however, he was interrupted again, this time by Wood.
"Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She - er - got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I don't care if it threw you off, as long as you cough the Snitch on it first." Wood shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, the way she was yelling at me ... you'd think I'd said something terrible. Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it ..." He screwed up his face and imitated Professor McGonagall's severe voice, "As long as necessary, Wood" ... I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom, Harry. There's an order form at the back of Which Broomstick ... you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got."
"I'm not buying anything Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry flatly.
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
January faded imperceptibly into February. With no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. Antheia's mental health was taking a hit with the Dementor classes, extra Quidditch practices, the case for Buckbeak, extra classes, and multiple stacks of homework. There were more days that she didn't sleep than the days that she did. She often felt on the verge of fainting and not snapping at people was getting harder and harder.
Harry's Anti-Dementor lessons were not going gnarly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the Boggart-Dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the Dementor away. Antheia's Patronus was corporeal and she was getting closer and closer to mastering the Charm which made Harry feel even worse about himself. Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his parents' voices again.
"You're expecting too much of yourself," said Professor Lupin sternly, in their fourth week of practice. Antheia hadn't come to this lesson as she had too much homework to complete. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out any more, are you?"
"I thought a Patronus would - charge the Dementors down or something," said Harry dispiritedly. "Make them disappear -"
"The true Patronus does do that," said Lupin. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."
"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," said Harry.
"I have complete confidence in you," said Lupin, smiling. "Here - you've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won't have tried it before -"
He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase.
"Butterbeer!" said Harry, without thinking. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"
Lupin raised an eyebrow.
"Oh - Ron, Hermione, and ANtheia brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry lied quickly.
"I see," said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious. "Well - let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher ..." he added hastily.
They drank the Butterbeer in silence until Harry voiced something he'd been wondering for a while.
"What's under a Dementor's hood?"
Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
"Hmm ... well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon.
"What's that?"
"They call it the Dementor's Kiss."
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
Antheia stared down at her Muggle Studies essay and felt like puking. Multiple people had approached her talking about Quidditch, homework, or just small talk. She was starting to want to punch someone in the face every time another person interrupted her.
"Anyways, that's what football is," Dean said. "Hey - are you listening?"
Antheia snapped out of what seemed like a trance. "Yeah, sorry - what?"
"When was the last time you slept?" said Dean, looking closely at the deep eyebags under Antheia's eyes.
"Huh? Er - I'm not sure - maybe Tuesday?"
"It's Friday."
"Oh, okay. Listen I love you and all but I'm kind of busy," said Antheia.
"Theia, I think you're trying to do too much."
"No, I'm not," Antheia snapped. Dean raised his eyebrows as Antheia sighed, rubbing her eyes.
Just then, Harry burst into Gryffindor Tower with his Firebolt. Everyone immediately started surrounding Harry and exclaiming over his Firebolt.
"Where'd you get it, Harry?"
"Will you let me have ago?"
"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"
"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"
"Can I just hold it, Harry?"
After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione and Antheia, the only people who hadn't rushed over to them, both bent over their work. Hermione was carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached their table and at last, she looked up.
"I got it back," said Hermione, grinning at them and holding up the Firebolt."
"Oh my Merlin, that's great, Harry!" said Antheia with a strained smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you came in."
"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.
"Well - there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"
"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs -"
"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his Rat Tonic."
He took the Firebolt, and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.
"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked Antheia.
"Sure," said Antheia, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arthimancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ("Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity"), and at the Rune translation Hermione was now poring over.
"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked them.
"Oh, well - you know - working hard," said Hermione. Close to, Harry saw that Hermione and Antheia looked almost as tired as Lupin.
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching Hermione lifting books as she searched for her Rune dictionary
"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized at the same time that Antheia muttered, "I wish."
"Arthimancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.
"It is," sighed Antheia just as Hermione earnestly said, "Oh, no, it's wonderful! It's my favorite subject! It's -"
But exactly what was wonderful about Arthimancy, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled cry echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. There came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder - and then, Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
"Ron, what -?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like -
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
"N-no," said Hermione, in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's Rune translation. Hermione, Harry, and Antheia leant forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─
a/n: I made her Patronus a mare because after some research I feel like it fit her personality the best. Anyways, remember to not burn yourself out like Antheia does in this chapter! I could probably use that advice myself ngl-