XIX
After her heartfelt conversation with George, Thalia found a renewed sense of purpose. She began to focus on the moments that brought her joy—her friends, the laughter they shared, and the small comforts of daily life. This shift in perspective led her to spend more time in the Gryffindor common room, where the warmth of the fire and the lively chatter of her friends became her sanctuary. No one seemed to mind her near-constant presence; in fact, the Gryffindors had come to see her as one of their own.
It wasn’t just Thalia who was reclaiming her happiness. The first weeks of March brought a wave of change to Hogwarts, sparked by Harry’s bold decision to speak out. With the help of Luna Lovegood, a quirky but fiercely loyal Ravenclaw fifth-year, Harry gave an interview to The Quibbler , a magazine known for its eccentric content. The headline blazed across the front page: "HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN."
The article was a sensation. Harry’s raw honesty and detailed account of Voldemort’s return sent ripples through the wizarding world. For many, it was the first time they’d heard the truth from Harry himself, unfiltered by the Ministry’s propaganda. At Hogwarts, the article spread like wildfire, passed hand to hand despite Umbridge’s swift and predictable reaction. She banned The Quibbler on school grounds and barred Harry from attending Hogsmeade weekends for the rest of the term.
But her efforts to suppress the truth only seemed to amplify its impact. For the first time in months, Harry walked the corridors with his head held high. The whispers that had once followed him, full of doubt and derision, were replaced by murmurs of support. Letters began pouring in, not just from Hogwarts students but from witches and wizards across the UK, expressing their belief in Harry and gratitude for his courage.
In the Gryffindor common room, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter. Thalia often found herself sitting with Harry and his friends, sharing quiet conversations or joining in on their laughter. She could see the change in him—his shoulders no longer slumped under the weight of disbelief, and his green eyes held a glimmer of hope.
For Thalia, the shift in Harry’s demeanor was inspiring. It reminded her that even in the darkest times, truth and courage could spark change.
Harry’s growing confidence seemed to breathe new life into the DA meetings. The room buzzed with energy as the group gathered for their latest session, the air thick with the mingled scents of parchment, chalk, and faintly singed wood from practice spells. The Room of Requirement had once again transformed itself to suit their needs, its walls lined with bookshelves filled with magical texts, and a large chalkboard taking center stage at the front of the room.
The list of spells and incantations they had learned so far was meticulously written on the board in Hermione’s neat, precise handwriting. Beside it, diagrams of wand movements glowed faintly in enchanted chalk, their lines shimmering with a silvery hue.
Thalia stood near the back, her wand loosely held in her hand as she surveyed the room. The group had grown noticeably larger since the article in The Quibbler had been published. Faces she hadn’t seen at the start of the year were now familiar fixtures.
Nova and Kristen had both eagerly signed up for the DA, their decision driven by a mixture of loyalty to their new Gryffindor friends and their own sense of justice. They’d been quietly impressed by how well the group had kept its existence a secret, particularly their fellow Hufflepuff friends.
"Honestly," Nova whispered to Thalia and Kristen as they slipped into the Room of Requirement for their first meeting, "I thought for sure someone would have let it slip by now. Hufflepuffs aren’t exactly known for being sneaky."
Kristen smirked, nudging her friend with her elbow. "Hey, loyalty means keeping your mouth shut when it counts. Besides, we’re not just here for gossip—this is about standing up for what’s right." Thalia nodded enthusiastically, happy to see that her friends understood what they were trying to achieve here.
The room buzzed with energy as they took their places among the other students. Nova’s sharp eyes scanned the space, taking in the diverse mix of faces—Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. However she wasn’t surprised by the lack of Slytherin participation.
"I didn’t expect it to feel so... united," Kristen murmured, her voice tinged with awe.
"Yeah," Nova agreed, nodding toward Harry, who stood at the front of the room. "But it makes sense. People need something to believe in right now."
Even Seamus Finnigan, who had openly doubted Harry for so long, was there. He stood awkwardly beside Dean Thomas, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, his posture stiff as though he expected someone to challenge his presence.
Harry stepped forward, his presence commanding but warm. The quiet murmurs in the room faded as he spoke, his voice carrying easily over the gathered students.
"As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, we have a couple of new faces with us today," he began, glancing toward Seamus and a few other newcomers with a nod of encouragement. "To make sure everyone’s caught up, we’ll be using the next couple of sessions as revision lessons."
He turned to the chalkboard, gesturing to the spells listed there. "Hermione’s helpfully written out everything we’ve covered so far. Take a moment to look it over. These are your foundation spells—your bread and butter in a duel. Make sure they’re solid in your repertoire before we move on."
A wave of determination rippled through the group as students began pairing off. The sound of spells being practiced filled the air, punctuated by the occasional crackle of a shield charm or the dull thud of a disarming spell hitting its mark.
George crept up from behind her, his footsteps deliberately light, bending down to whisper in her ear. His warm breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she barely suppressed a smile as he spoke.
"I'll help you with your Patronus next week if you help me with my dueling technique this week?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial, as though sharing a secret only they could understand.
Thalia turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don’t you usually pair up with Fred, though?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t want to intrude on the twins’ dynamic, even if the idea of working closely with George made her heart flutter.
George grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Harry asked that we ‘seek other partners’ for the next couple of weeks," he said, mimicking air quotes with exaggerated flair. "Something about rogue Stunning Charms not being particularly welcoming to the newbies."
Thalia couldn’t help the undignified snort that escaped her. "I can’t imagine why," she said, her voice dripping with mock innocence as she shrugged. She laughed again when George looked at her, bewildered by her reaction.
"Deal," she added with a grin. "As long as you don’t laugh at my pitiful attempt at a Patronus!"
George rolled his eyes dramatically, though the playful smile tugging at his lips softened the gesture. "You’ll get it in no time," he assured her. Without giving her a chance to protest, he grabbed her shoulders and steered her toward a quieter corner of the room where they wouldn’t be interrupted.
Once there, he turned to face her, his expression earnest. "I don’t understand how you’re so quick," he admitted, holding his wand loosely at his side. "It feels like you’ve stunned me before I’ve even had a chance to think."
“You’re a Quidditch player George, you understand speed and agility, think of it as avoiding and intercepting bludgers,” she tried to explain in a way that he would understand.
George appeared to be nodding along deep in thought. “As much as I appreciate the analogy, dueling would be like flying with your eyes closed as someone fires spells at you, all whilst you’ve got to find the snitch using echolocation.”
Thalia laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "It doesn’t help that you refuse to actually aim at me, George," she pointed out, watching as his ears turned a telltale shade of pink.
"I don’t want to hurt you," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shuffled his feet. "It feels all wrong to raise my wand against you."
Her teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Ignoring the way her heart thudded painfully in her chest, she said, "You won’t. And if it makes you feel better, we can lay some mats out?"
George looked up, his lips twitching into a small smile at her attempt to reassure him. "Mats, huh?"
Thalia chuckled, stepping closer and nudging him lightly with her elbow. "If that’s what it takes to get you to take this seriously, then yes."
George’s grin widened, the tension easing from his shoulders as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Alright, Winterbourne," he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. "Prepare to be stunned—figuratively and literally."
Thalia chuckled, grabbing her wand and flicking it toward a pile of cushions and mats stacked neatly against the wall. With a small swish , the mats floated over, arranging themselves in a makeshift sparring area.
"See? No excuses now," she teased, stepping onto the padded surface and giving him a mock bow. "Bring it on, Weasley."
George sighed dramatically, shaking his head as he stepped onto the mat. "You’re going to enjoy this way too much, aren’t you?"
"Absolutely," she replied with a grin, raising her wand. "But only because you’re going to get better by the end of it."
And for the first time, George raised his wand with real intent, though the warm look in his eyes never wavered. They began slowly, Thalia demonstrating the proper stance and movement for defensive dueling. George mimicked her actions, his usual playful demeanor giving way to focused determination.
"Okay," Thalia said after a few minutes of practice. "Let’s try it for real. I’ll go easy on you... at first."
George narrowed his eyes in mock offense. "Easy? I’ll have you know I’m a quick learner, Winterbourne."
She smirked, taking her position. "Prove it."
The duel began with a quick exchange of spells, George firing off a hesitant Stupefy that Thalia easily deflected. She countered with a disarming spell, which he dodged just in time.
"Better," she said, nodding approvingly. "But you need to commit to your movements. No second-guessing."
"Easy for you to say," George muttered, ducking under another spell. "You’re like a dueling prodigy."
Thalia laughed, sending a harmless Expelliarmus his way. "Hardly. It’s all about practice."
As the session went on, George began to relax, his movements becoming more fluid and confident. He even managed to catch her off guard with a well-aimed stunning spell, which she narrowly dodged.
"See? You’re getting the hang of it!" Thalia said, grinning as she raised her wand to cast a shield charm.
"Only because you’re going easy on me," George replied, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.
By the time they called it a night, both were breathless and laughing, their cheeks flushed from exertion. George flopped onto one of the mats, his hair sticking up at odd angles.
"Alright, Winterbourne," he said, grinning up at her. "You win this round. But next week, when it’s your turn with the Patronus, I’m getting my revenge."
Thalia sat down beside him, leaning back on her hands. "Deal. But don’t say I didn’t warn you—it’s going to be pitiful."
George nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "Nah, you’ll be brilliant. You always are."
She glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. "Thanks, George," she said softly, her smile warm.
For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the faint hum of the other DA members practicing in the background.
~.~.~.~
Throughout the following week, George made it his mission to help Thalia find her happiest memory. He would slip her little notes between classes, each one recalling a moment they had shared—a successful prank, a cozy evening in the common room, or even a particularly hilarious mishap during a DA session. His efforts were relentless and endearing, but despite his enthusiasm, Thalia struggled. Every memory she tried to cling to seemed tainted—by the shadow of her grandfather, by the stress of her responsibilities, or by the ever-present fear of what was to come.
George couldn’t quite understand why it was so difficult for her, and in truth, Thalia wasn’t ready to explain. She had always been private about her home life, guarding it like a fragile secret she couldn’t bear to share. But one evening, as they sat in the common room and George gently suggested she think back to her childhood for inspiration, something inside her cracked.
Her breath hitched, and she sank onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands as if to shield herself from the weight of his words. Her friends, scattered around the room, immediately noticed her distress. Conversations fell silent, and a concerned hush settled over the group.
"Thalia?" Angelina asked softly, moving closer to the sofa.
Thalia didn’t respond right away, focusing instead on taking slow, calming breaths. She felt raw, exposed, and utterly incapable of explaining why her childhood memories weren’t the safe haven George imagined.
Sensing her unease, the group began to share their own stories, hoping to lighten the mood and offer some perspective.
"My Patronus memory is easy," Angelina said with a warm smile. "Flying. The first time I got on a broom and felt the wind in my hair—it was like freedom."
Fred and George chimed in next, their usual banter softening the atmosphere. "Ours are almost the same," Fred began, leaning forward. "The first time we pulled off a really big prank without getting caught—"
"—and McGonagall couldn’t figure out who turned her desk into a giant marshmallow," George finished, grinning at the memory.
Hermione spoke next, her voice thoughtful. "Mine is a family holiday to France. We spent a week in a little village by the sea, and I remember being so happy just walking along the shore with my parents."
Alicia smiled, adding her own story. "My first Hogsmeade weekend. I’d never been anywhere like it before—it felt magical in a way that even Hogwarts didn’t."
The room buzzed with shared memories, laughter, and nostalgia, but the more they talked, the more Thalia felt the weight of her own emptiness. Their memories were vibrant, filled with joy and connection, but hers felt muted and distant, like a faded photograph.
Her school years hadn’t been filled with pranks, broomsticks, or carefree weekends in Hogsmeade. Until this year, Hogwarts had been a chore—a place she attended out of obligation before returning home to bury herself in homework, only to repeat the cycle the next day. It had been monotonous, isolating, and devoid of the warmth her friends described.
As the group continued to chatter, Thalia pressed her palms against her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She wanted to contribute, to share a story that would make them laugh or smile, but all she could think about was how different her life had been.
George noticed her silence and shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. "Hey," he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise. “I think you’re putting too much stress on this, Lia,” He glanced between their friends, his expression filled with quiet concern.
Thalia hesitated, bringing her hands down from her face and twisting them in her lap. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she admitted, barely above a whisper, “I just… I don’t know if I have one.”
Her confession hung in the air like a sudden chill, silencing the room. The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the warmth of the Common Room felt suddenly muted. Her words carried a weight that no one knew how to lift.
George, ever perceptive, took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Then maybe,” he said, his tone light but laced with sincerity, “we’ll just have to make one together.”
The corners of Thalia’s lips twitched upward despite herself. It wasn’t a full smile, but it was enough to ease the tension in the room.
From his spot on the outskirts of the group, Harry stirred. His thoughtful expression gave way to a hesitant smile as he got up and crossed the room, settling himself beside Thalia on the sofa. He looked slightly awkward, his hands fidgeting in his lap, but his voice was steady when he spoke.
“Maybe you’re going about this all wrong,” Harry began, glancing toward George. George raised an eyebrow, looking mildly offended. “No offense,” Harry added quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
George raised an eyebrow at Harry’s interjection, clearly skeptical but willing to listen. “Alright, Potter,” he said, leaning back slightly and folding his arms. “Let’s hear it, then.”
Harry gave him a small, apologetic shrug before turning his attention back to Thalia. He suddenly seemed uncharacteristically at ease, as if sharing this advice brought him a rare kind of confidence.
“When Lupin was teaching me how to conjure a Patronus,” Harry began, his voice steady but thoughtful, “it wasn’t just about picking a memory. It was about the feeling that memory gave me. That’s what makes it work. Even now, I’m not sure if the memory I use is completely real, but it doesn’t matter because it makes me feel happy and safe.”
George’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. Thalia, her hand still resting lightly in George’s, tilted her head toward Harry, her expression softening with curiosity.
“Rather than focusing on one specific memory,” Harry continued, his tone gentler now, “think about the feeling you’re looking for. When have you felt happy, taken care of, and safe? Let that feeling fill you up. Let it push out everything else—the fear, the stress, all of it—and then try.”
Thalia’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Her gaze flickered between Harry and George, a mix of apprehension and hope flickering in her eyes.
“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Hermione chimed in from across the room, her voice carrying that familiar note of authority. “The incantation itself— Expecto Patronum —isn’t just about recalling a memory. It’s about summoning a protective force, something rooted in positive emotion. Harry’s right. The memory is just the catalyst.”
George, still holding Thalia’s hand, gave it another reassuring squeeze. “Alright, Lia,” he said, his voice softer now, “what do you think? Want to give it a shot?”
Thalia hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly in George’s grasp. “I—I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve never really thought about it like that before.”
“That’s okay,” Harry said, offering her an awkward but sincere smile. “It’s not about getting it perfect the first time. Just... close your eyes and think about a time when you felt completely safe. A time when you were happy, even if it was just for a moment.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the moment palpable as everyone seemed to hold their breath. Thalia glanced at George, who gave her an encouraging nod, and then at Harry, whose green eyes were steady and reassuring. Slowly, she closed her eyes.
She let herself sink into the quiet, blocking out the rustling of robes and the soft crackle of the common room fire. Her mind flitted through fragments of memories—moments that were bright but fleeting, like sunlight through a canopy of leaves. The sound of laughter during a DA meeting, her initiation in the Gryffindor common room, George’s picnic, the warmth of her friends gathered around her at meal times, the way George had whispered words of encouragement in her ear, finally feeling accepted amongst her Hufflepuff friends.
It wasn’t one memory, but a collection of them, bound together by the same feeling: belonging. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Her lips moved almost instinctively. “Expecto Patronum.”
A faint silver mist swirled from the tip of her wand, curling lazily in the air like a breath on a cold winter morning. It wasn’t fully formed, but it lingered longer than any of her previous attempts.
The group erupted into cheers, George’s voice the loudest among them. “That’s it, Lia!” he exclaimed, his grin so wide it was almost blinding. “You did it!”
Thalia opened her eyes, her cheeks flushed and her breath unsteady, but there was a spark of pride in her gaze. She turned to Harry, who nodded approvingly.
“You’re getting there,” he said, his smile small but genuine. “Just keep focusing on that feeling. You’ll have a fully-formed Patronus in no time.”
George wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a quick, celebratory hug. “Told you you’d get it,” he teased, his voice warm and full of pride.
Thalia couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unburdened. For the first time in what felt like forever, she believed it too.
~.~.~.~
Before the next DA session, George had scoured every corner of the castle, his determination growing with every empty corridor and abandoned classroom he searched. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him, but the thought of Thalia struggling with her Patronus had been gnawing at him since their last conversation. Something about the spell was clearly weighing on her, and it didn’t sit right with him.
How could someone like Thalia—so full of life, laughter, and warmth—struggle to summon a happy memory? The idea didn’t make sense, and yet, it had sparked a quiet curiosity about her life beyond the walls of Hogwarts. She rarely spoke about home, and when she did, it was always vague, carefully curated. What had she been through?
Running a hand through his messy hair, George sighed, his frustration mounting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her story, and it made him all the more determined to help. Finally, he decided to check the Room of Requirement. It was a long shot, but if she was looking for a quiet place to think, it was the most likely spot.
When he reached the door, it appeared instantly, as though it had been waiting for him. Pushing it open, George stepped inside and immediately spotted her. The room was dimly lit, the firelight casting soft, flickering shadows across the walls. In the far corner, Thalia sat cross-legged on the floor, her head bowed and her eyes closed.
She didn’t stir when the door clicked shut behind him, nor when his footsteps echoed softly across the stone floor. Her stillness was unusual; Thalia was rarely so subdued. George hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, but something about the sight of her sitting there alone tugged at his chest.
Quietly, he approached and lowered himself onto the floor beside her. Their shoulders brushed, and the faint contact seemed to draw her out of her thoughts. Slowly, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, offering him a small, tired smile.
“Sorry to intrude,” George murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can leave if you’d prefer?”
Thalia shook her head, her expression softening. Without a word, she leaned her head against his shoulder, the gesture both intimate and vulnerable. Knowing that Thalia didn’t necessarily need words of comfort, George wrapped his arms around her tightly, bringing her closer and hoping it would bring her some comfort. He could feel the tension in her frame, the weight of whatever was troubling her pressing down like an invisible burden.
“Sorry, I was just trying to get myself into a good headspace. I’ve been going over all the memories I thought might work.” she said, her voice low and steady.
“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring, as he gently brushed his fingers through her hair. “I just… I wanted to check on you. I could tell the Patronus stuff was getting to you, and I figured, maybe, we could talk about it?”
Thalia sighed, her breath shaky as she tucked her legs beneath her. “It’s not the spell itself,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… I don’t know if I have the kind of memory I need. Everyone else talks about these perfect moments—family holidays, first Quidditch wins, things like that. And I—I just don’t have those.”
George frowned, his chest tightening at her words. He glanced down at her, studying her profile as she stared at the floor. Her usual spark, the mischievous glint in her eyes that he loved so much, seemed dimmed.
“Lia,” he said gently, tilting his head to rest his cheek against her hair. “You’re one of the happiest people I know. I mean, you light up every room you walk into. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Fred laugh as much as he does when you’re around.”
She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “That’s the thing, George. It’s easy to be happy here—with you, with all of our friends. But when I try to think back to before… it’s like everything’s shrouded in this fog. I can’t pick out anything that feels... pure.”
George was silent for a moment, his mind racing. He’d always known Thalia was guarded about her past, but hearing her talk about it like this made him realise just how much she carried alone. He wanted to say the right thing, to help her in a way that wouldn’t make her feel more exposed.
“Okay,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “Forget the past for a second. What about now? What about the moments we’ve had this year? Surely there’s something here that makes you feel like you could take on the world.”
She sighed, her breath warm against his shoulder. “Some, I think. But every time I settle on one, I start second-guessing it. What if it’s not happy enough? What if it’s not strong enough? It’s… frustrating.”
George tilted his head, his lips quirking into a small, reassuring smile. “Stop over thinking it. Remember what Harry said. Instead of focusing on a single memory, focus on a feeling.”
Thalia didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of his presence ground her. George watched her, his curiosity growing. He wanted to push her and ask her about the memories she was trying to use, about the life she kept so carefully guarded. But he held back, sensing that now wasn’t the time.
Instead, he reached out and gently squeezed her hand, the gesture as natural as breathing. “Whatever it is, you’ll get there,” he said softly. “And if you need help, you’ve got me. You’ve got all of us.”
She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy,” he said, his voice softening. “Because you’re not doing it alone anymore. We’ve got your back, Thalia. All of us. And if you ever feel like you’re falling, I’ll be right here to catch you. Every time.”
Her smile faltered for a moment, her eyes glistening as she met his gaze. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do,” George said, his tone earnest. “You’re stuck with me, Winterbourne. Whether you like it or not. Best friends, remember?”
Thalia chuckled, leaning back against him and closing her eyes.
The pair sat in a companionable silence, the quiet hum of the Room of Requirement wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. The crackling of conjured torches on the walls was the only sound until the first bursts of chatter began to filter in. Slowly, the room filled with students, their laughter and conversations echoing off the high ceilings, growing louder with each passing moment.
Thalia glanced up at George, her gaze softening as she caught his warm, reassuring smile. She returned it with one of her own, a quiet gesture of gratitude that didn’t need words. With a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor, brushing imaginary dust from her robes as she moved to join the group forming a loose semi-circle around Harry. George followed closely, his presence a comforting shadow. Without a word, he stepped behind her, draping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. The gesture was casual, yet grounding, and Thalia felt a small wave of calm wash over her.
Kristen, standing across the room, caught sight of them and couldn’t resist shooting Thalia a teasing look. Her eyebrows wiggled dramatically, a smirk playing on her lips. Thalia’s cheeks flushed pink, but she quickly looked away, pretending to focus intently on Harry as he began to speak.
“Like last week,” Harry announced, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of nervous authority, “pair off and revise the spells we’ve already learned. I’ll be wandering around to help anyone who needs it.”
The room buzzed with movement as students began to partner up or position themselves near practice dummies. The buzz of the room grew louder as students paired off, the sound of laughter and spells ricocheting off the high stone walls. Thalia felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she glanced around, watching her peers confidently practicing their magic. Even Kristen, who had been casting her a teasing look moments before, was already locked in a duel with Nova, her wand movements precise and focused.
Thalia remained rooted to the spot, her frown deepening as she looked up at George. The worry in her eyes was unmistakable, her brow creased as if the weight of her own expectations were pressing down on her.
George chuckled softly, his voice low and soothing. “You can’t give up before you’ve even tried,” he said, taking her hand and gently tugging her toward their usual corner. The familiar space, tucked away from the main group, felt like a small sanctuary amidst the bustling room.
“Come on,” George encouraged, his tone light but firm as he guided her into position. “Close your eyes,” he said, his voice dropping to a soothing tone.
She hesitated, glancing at him, her lips parting as if ready to protest; but the encouraging look in his eyes made her relent. With a shaky exhale, she let her eyelids flutter shut, blocking out the chaos of the room around her.
“Now,” George continued, his voice low and calm, “think about what Harry said. Focus on the feeling. When have you felt safe? Happy? Like nothing in the world could touch you?”
George stood close, his presence a steady anchor as she began to sift through her thoughts, searching for something—anything—that could spark the light she needed.
“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of spells. “I believe in you.”
The simple words, spoken with such quiet conviction, sent a small ripple of warmth through her chest. Thalia’s brows furrowed, her mind racing. She thought of her friends, of the laughter they shared in the Common Room and Great Hall, of the times they had made her laugh so hard her sides hurt, and been the supporting lift she needed to carry on.
“Alright,” George said gently, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “Hold onto that feeling. Let it fill you up. And when you’re ready, give it a try.”
She nodded, gripping her wand tightly in her hand. The polished wood felt cool against her palm, but as she raised it, her fingers steadied. Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus on the feeling of belonging, of being cared for.
“ Expecto Patronum! ” she called, her voice strong despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.
For a moment, nothing happened. Thalia opened her eyes, her shoulders sagging slightly in disappointment. But then, a silvery wisp began to form at the tip of her wand, swirling and shimmering like liquid light. It wasn’t fully formed, but it was there—a tangible manifestation of the happiness she had fought so hard to find.
George’s face lit up, his grin wide, “You’re almost there Lia!” he said, as he pulled her into a tight hug.
“It’s not much,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “But it’s something.”
“It’s more than something,” George said, his tone firm but kind. “It’s amazing. And it’s only going to get better from here.”
Her lips curved into a small smile, the tension in her chest easing just a little more. As the light faded, she looked up at George, “Let’s try again then.” he said.
Before she could respond, Fred’s voice called out from across the room, “Oi, George! Stop hogging Thalia, she’s never going to be able to get it with you hanging off of her like that. Your ugly mug probably conjures nightmares not happy feelings.” he joked, sniggering with Lee.
She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching with amusement as she shot Fred a rude gesture, one that only made him laugh louder. She could practically hear his mumbled teasing from across the room.
Turning back to a red faced George, she nodded resolutely. “Again,” she said, her voice steady but her heart still racing. She closed her eyes, tuning out the chaos of the room around her.
She took a deep breath, her mind racing through memories, trying to find the one that would give her the strength to summon her Patronus. Her thoughts flitted through moments of joy, of laughter, but it wasn’t until she thought of George that everything clicked into place. Maybe Fred had been onto something.
Every time she had felt safe, happy, and at peace, George had been there. She thought back to their walks through the corridors, his arm slung casually around her shoulder,the teasing glint in his eyes as they studied together. She remembered how his hand always found hers when she was stressed, how he never hesitated to offer comfort when she needed it most. Her heart swelled as she thought of the countless times she’d found herself searching the crowd for him, her eyes drawn to him without thinking. The memory of that picnic, lying on his shoulder, his warmth enveloping her, made her smile despite herself, basking in the feeling of safety he always provided.
A flicker of something stirred deep in her chest—a warmth, a lightness that she hadn’t realised she’d been missing for so long. It spread through her, filling her up, and she allowed it to settle, anchoring her.
With a deep breath, she gripped her wand tighter, feeling the power surge through her veins. The room around her seemed to quiet, the only sound was her steady heartbeat. In a strong, confident voice, she called out, “ Expecto Patronum! ”
The air around her seemed to shift, a rush of wind blowing her hair back as something exploded from her wand. Thalia’s eyes snapped open at the sound of George’s startled gasp and chuckle. She blinked, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched the silvery blue light coalesce in front of her.
There, in front of her, a hedgehog appeared, its tiny snout sniffing around curiously. It rolled into a ball, bouncing between the pairs of students practicing nearby, as if testing its newfound form. Thalia’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the absurdity of it bringing a sense of joy she hadn’t expected.
Her friends began to realise what had happened. A wave of cheers and applause rippled through the room, and before she could fully process what had just occurred, they were surrounding her, pulling her into a tight celebratory hug. She laughed, her chest light with happiness as they clapped her on the back, offering congratulations.
George’s face lit up like a firework, his grin wide and triumphant. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his voice full of pride. “See? I told you you could.”
Thalia couldn’t help but stare at the glowing hedgehog, a mix of awe and disbelief washing over her. Her heart raced, and a smile spread across her face as she turned to George. “I did,” she whispered, the words almost foreign on her tongue.
She pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him with all the gratitude and relief she felt in that moment. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest, her voice thick with emotion.
George shrugged, his grin turning playful as he returned the hug. “Anything for my favorite Hufflepuff,” he teased, his voice light but warm.
Thalia pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. For the first time in weeks, the weight on her chest felt lighter. She had done it. And, more importantly, she had done it with the support of her friends—her family here at Hogwarts.
As the hedgehog began to fade, Thalia’s heart sank, the fleeting moment of success slipping through her fingers. Her wand drooped in her hand, and she looked down, her expression faltering as she felt the weight of the effort.
George, ever the optimist, noticed the change in her demeanor immediately. With a soft chuckle, he nudged her shoulder gently, his voice warm and encouraging. "Try again," he said, his words a simple reassurance that brought her back to the present moment.
Thalia took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of her thoughts. She began focusing on the warmth that had filled her earlier—the feelings of safety, comfort, and happiness. The memories rushed back, swirling in her mind like a whirlwind of light and warmth. She sneaked a glance at George beside her, and when she saw his wide grin, it was like a spark igniting inside her. That smile, the one that always made her heart flutter, was all the encouragement she needed. She swished her wand with renewed determination, her voice steady as she whispered, “ Expecto Patronum! ”
This time, the magic surged through her with a fierce power. The hedgehog reappeared, its small form bounding around excitedly. But it wasn’t alone. Thalia gasped in surprise as other creatures began to materialise from the tip of her friend's wands—an elegant rabbit, a playful otter, a sleek fox, and a pair of magpies and a fluffy dog, all of them running and weaving through the room in joyous chaos. The room seemed to come alive with their movement, the animals darting between the practicing students and the obstacles set up for dueling practice, their playful energy infectious.
Thalia couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh, her eyes sparkling with triumph. She turned to George, her smile wide and full of joy. “They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with happiness.
The creatures continued to frolic around the room, their energy filling the space with a sense of wonder and delight. Thalia felt her heart race with excitement, her mind still trying to process what had just happened. It was as if all the stress and doubt had melted away in that moment, replaced by a deep sense of accomplishment.
For a brief second, she allowed herself to bask in the moment—the feeling of success, the camaraderie, and the sense of belonging that had become so important to her. She glanced back at George, her smile softening into something more tender. But in that instant, she made a decision. She would think about how and why her happiest memories seemed to revolve around the ginger-haired boy another time. What that meant would be a worry for future Thalia.
The joy in the room evaporated as a sharp crack echoed through the space, silencing the laughter and chatter. Thalia craned her neck, trying to see over the heads of taller students, her heart thudding in her chest. The shimmering Patronus creatures faded into nothingness as the room grew tense.
A small, squeaky voice broke the silence, trembling with urgency. "She is coming, Harry Potter."