look me in the eyes and burn

It was quite a sight to see — the single red uniform surrounded by green ones, with no indication of an altercation. Rather, the students were talking amicably to one-another. More than a few people — ghosts and students alike — paused at that.

It didn’t help that when they properly looked at them, to see who of them were brave enough to dare to do something so controversial, they looked into the faces of a barely recognisable Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. A non-arguing Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. A — dare they say it? — friendly Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. A hot Harry Potter, with a new hairstyle that left his scar exposed and no glasses to obscure his eyes; whoever knew the Boy-Who-Lived had such an intense gaze?

There, just walking and not doing much more, Potter didn’t look like a lunatic. And even if he was, dozens of students bit their lips, their eyes trailing over the group, who didn’t like a bad boy?

Many nodded contemplatively and decided on a whim that these tutoring lessons the younger years kept raving on about, were indeed needed. After all the trauma they went through with the Ministry toad and all the previous, traumatising Professors, they definitely needed some positive reinforcement from proper teachers.

And if they were served Potter-Malfoy-Drama as a side dish… well, they certainly wouldn’t complain.

If it turned out they would regret that decision (as well), then they could just drink on that in Hogsmeade tomorrow… which they would be doing anyway because getting tortured, finding out a mass murdering monster was not actually a mass murdering monster, but rather a Pureblood Heir of a prestigious House, who had spent over a decade falsely imprisoned in Azkaban after receiving no trial, being woken up in the middle of the night by their frantic friends and Head of Houses because their torture at the hand of the Undersecretary of the Minister came to light, running to the hospital wing to be healed and then, while seriously sleep-deprived, a horde of Aurors stormed the Great Hall and arrested the pink toad, who seemed to think that was a great accomplishment, was a bit too much excitement for them.

So, by going to these absolutely amazing, funny, brilliant lessons, they would either get some fun hours or even more of a reason to drink. It wouldn’t be a bad deal either way.

xXxXxXx

Hadrian, Draco, and his three sadistic friends, were just rounding the corner, when tiny whirlwinds came at them out of nowhere.

“Hey, Hadrian!” One of them — Luis — said into Hadrian’s stomach. His tiny arms were wrapped quite firmly around Hadrian’s torso, stopping the fifth year in his tracks.

“Thank you!” Luis’ words were muffled by Hadrian’s clothes, but he certainly didn’t let it bother him. “You saved me and my friends!”

Hadrian could only stare in mute shock. The little Ravenclaw was beaming at him with… with hero-worship. Taking his eyes off of the boy and searching out his friends, he could see the same awe and gratitude shining in their eyes.

Oh Merlin…

“Woah,” one of them breathed. Hadrian knew the boy from his lessons, but for the love of Merlin, he could not remember his name. It was definitely something with an N—… “You’re so pretty!”

Hadrian’s jaw dropped open.

No-one, and he meant no-one, had ever… just like that…

An amazed smile stole itself onto Hadrian’s face. “Thank you.” It was surprisingly charming and nice to hear this.

The boy turned red and his friends nudged him, snickering all the while. With a delighted laugh, Luis detangled himself from Hadrian and gripped his hand.

“Nathan is right.” He agreed enthusiastically. Hadrian smiled — he knew it was something with an N! “Your hair looks so cool!”

“I’m happy you like it.” Hadrian exchanged a baffled look with Draco, then narrowed his eyes lightly; his bonded seemed entirely too amused by the situation. What did make Hadrian smile however, was the sight of him not being the only one besieged by their little students.

He turned back to Luis. “Pansy made it. She's really great. She has an eye for this.”

“I’ve seen your hair,” Pansy said unabashed, then shrugged. “It couldn’t really get any worse than that.”

The kids giggled.

“Did you really get that scar when You-Know-Who tried to kill you, but then you killed him?” And there they went. Little kids, weren’t they just precious?

Hadrian hesitated for a second, contemplating how he could explain this topic to kids.

“Well,” he started. “From what I have been told, yeah. I certainly don’t remember a time where I didn’t have the scar. But I wouldn’t say that it was me who killed him. I was a baby. I doubt I could do more than shit my pants and eat dirt, you know.”

The boys shrugged, unconcerned. “It looks super cool.”

“And is a constant reminder of my dead parents,” Hadrian said drily. “Go, take a seat before they’re all taken… We’re weirdly many today…” He shooed the apologetic kids away, while his eyes flitted around the room they’d finally reached.

Hadrian hadn’t been joking when he told them they should hurry in finding a seat because, even with some time still left before the tutoring officially started, the room was packed. There were never that many people here, and all were looking at Hadrian and Draco and Pansy expectantly.

The three shared equally confused glances. Pansy even shook her head. No, they hadn’t missed anything, so what?…

“You are… more than I honestly expected,” Hadrian said baffled, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as even more appeared. Many of them weren’t even first or second years!

“Why are you — did all of you have a good nights’ sleep? Are none of you tired? Did you not run around screaming making sure your friends are alright? Don’t you want to celebrate that Umbridge’s finally gone? Why are you all here?!”

Snickering filled the room. Not even Pansy could withhold cracking a smile. Still, she jabbed him in the side.

“Behave,” she berated him, all prim and proper, like she hadn’t just cackled madly half an hour ago. “Umbridge traumatised and scared many of them, no need to remind them. Now, why don’t you start? We literally went over the plans this morning.”

Looking over the room and all the different years, just imagining the different stages of their knowledge, Hadrian rubbed his forehead in thought.

“About that…” Pansy turned to him slowly, an unimpressed expression on her lovely face. She opened her mouth and Hadrian quickly faced the crowd and continued before she could get the first word out. “Okay guys. Guys! Thank you.” Now, with all eyes on him, Hadrian felt himself falter.

Innumerable pairs of eyes stared at him, expectantly, waiting for him to go on, to tell them what to do. It was, quite frankly put, terrifying.

“You’re quite a few more than expected and honestly, I don’t think you’re all first years or new to the Wizarding World.” Laughter rang through the room and people shook their heads. Some “No!”’s and “We’re not!”’s reached them at the front.

Hadrian chuckled.

“I thought so.” He smiled amused. “Okay. Well, believe it or not, but we’d actually prepared something beforehand for today. However, with you all here and the excitement this morning, how about we do something more… fun? More hands on? Is that okay with everyone?” Unanimous agreement met his question.

Hadrian leaned back against the desk, taking in the room.

Sheer self-preservation had him not looking at the Slytherin Prefects next to him, seeing as he had not informed them of his hasty decision. A tiny voice — that sounded suspiciously like Draco — muttered something along the lines of ‘bloody impulsive Gryffindors’ in his head.

“If you have any wishes or ideas just scream. We are,” and he indicated the three of them (he really had no self-preservation), “at your service.”

Some people shuffled, some more even came through the door with chairs form other classrooms and sat down cluelessly but eagerly all the same.

Quite a few interesting topics were thrown about, however, they were either shut down by other students or they simply didn’t know enough about them to be able to explain and teach them to others comfortably. Eventually, a serene voice drifted through the room and quenched the whispers.

“Is it true,” the voice asked. Hadrian couldn’t see who spoke, but he didn’t need to anyway. He knew who that voice belonged to. “That you can produce a Patronus?”

“Yeah,” Hadrian answered smiling.

“A corporal Patronus?” Another, disbelieving voice asked. At his positive reply, someone whistled, while others exchanged awed looks. Luis stared at him with stars in his eyes. “Wow,” he breathed.

Draco snorted. “Of course, Perfect Patronus Potter,” he scoffed. More than one eye turned to him upon hearing that. The older years looked at him far more sharply than the younger years. Their ‘regular’ students had more than gotten used to Draco and Hadrian’s weird bickering.

Justin Finch-Fletchley — and what was he doing here? — sneered at the blond. “You’re just jealous, Malfoy,” he spat. Then, as though a switch had been flipped, a haughty look entered his eyes and his lips curled into a sneer. “Everyone knows dark wizards can’t produce Patroni. So even if you were to try, you’ll probably get eaten by maggots.”

Draco, thoroughly unimpressed, raised an eyebrow. Amusingly enough, Finch-Fletchley actually shrank into himself at that.

“Is that so?” The Prefect asked, before, without waiting for an answer, he took out his wand and swirled it in a perfect circle. “Expecto Patronum.”

The words were spoken softly, almost reverently. Instantly, silver light built up on the tip of his wand. It grew and got brighter and — happiness filled the room. Love and joy wrapped around each and everyone of them, filled them with warmth and ecstasy.

The superior look fell off of Finch-Fletchley’s face the same moment his jaw hit the ground. All around the room, mouths hung open and huge eyes tracked the magic as the corporal shape finally formed.

A silvery, huge snake slithered through the air, taking in the room and the children with its large, transparent eyes. Not seeing any danger, it returned to its master, nudged his chest and dissipated. When the glowing mist faded and Hadrian could see Draco again, he could feel his magic sing. His eyes took in the sight of his love, of his angel amidst plain humans.

Hadrian was enraptured, he alongside everyone in the room.

“As you can see,” Draco said softly, his voice as ethereal as the rest of him. “Everything you just said, is a load of codswallop.”

Draco looked away from Finch-Fletchley, dismissing him like the unimportant twat that he was, and caught Hadrian’s reverent gaze. He winked, then turned back to the class.

“It isn’t dark wizards that can’t produce the Patronus Charm, it’s those impure of heart. And even that is not necessarily true.” He chuckled. “Look at me, look at Potter. You remember Grindelwald? Look at him as well. We can all produce a Patronus, and do you know why?”

A sea of shocked people shook their heads. Incredulous hissed whispers of “Grindelwald?!” Were going through the rows.

“The incantation is Expecto Patronum, which literally means ‘I await a guardian; I look for counsel’. So when you are in need of a Patronus, you say you are in need of a protector and advice. It doesn’t matter if you’re a dark or light wizard, if you would never hurt a soul or have murdered thousands; when you need protection you need protection, and that is exactly what this charm gives you.

“The idea that evil people will get eaten by their own spell work for this charm is made-believe.”

Silence.

The room was quiet.

Then, a tentative hand rose.

“What…” the kid faltered, seemingly at a loss for words. “What was that feeling, that… when your Patronus was here, it was so…” so lovely, and calm as though you were buried in your mother’s secure embrace. Warm, like the softest and cosiest jumper in a cold winter night. A joy so happy it was like nothing bad had ever happened to you.

There was no better feeling, nothing. They were safe; protected from the cruelness of the world.

Someone exhaled. “The Patronus,” they simply said. Other people nodded.

“Yes,” Hadrian agreed softly. “That was the Patronus.” He turned back to the class. “Do any of you know how, or why?”

“To produce the Patronus, you must, uhm… you must draw upon your happiest memory, right?” Susan Bones shrugged, smiling self-consciously. “And they’re used to shield against Dementors. Remember when they were guarding the school? They always made me feel so sad and… and like I could never feel joy again. Patroni — they are, like, the opposite, right?”

Draco nodded shortly. “Yes, you are correct. What my Patronus made you feel is what I feel with my… protector, you could say.”

“Who is your protector?”

“Many people,” came the confusing answer. Draco, shocking his year mates from the other houses, smiled. “My parents, my friends, my loved ones — those who make me happy and bring a feeling of safety with them. They are all my Patronus. The corporal form is a representation of them. And should you ever fall in love — deeply and irrevocably — then your Patronus can change accordingly to represent your new safe heaven.”

Draco’s Patronus had always been a snake, or rather, a Basilisk. He didn’t know if it had been something else before — couldn’t be sure — but he still remembered his jaw-splitting grin and bubbling happiness the first time he had succeeded in calling him forth. How his Basilisk had faded, leaving him with euphoria in his veins and love in his heart when he caught Hadrian’s green green eyes through the dissipating light.

Hadrian’s delighted laughter had rung in his ears and a surety had settled deep into his bones and he had known that this is it. And it was.

Looking to his left, Draco found Hadrian already looking at him, his face so soft and open as it seldom was these days. A lovely smile lit up his face before mischief entered his eyes.

In remembrance of earlier, Hadrian winked at him and turned to face the swooning class.

“Does anyone want to learn?”

The class erupted in cheers. Students sprang up from their seats and pumped into each other in their haste to get moving. Chairs clattered to the ground before they were immediately picked up again and thrown into an empty corner of the room, the tables following suit.

Struck speechless, Draco and Hadrian watched the over eager class with wide eyes. Pansy was also struck speechless and looking rather wide eyed, her focus, however, was firmly set upon Draco and Hadrian himself. Seeing this, Theo and Blaise were crying, laughing at their friends’ misfortune that was sure to come at the hands of their female friend.

Although, the shock had not quite left their systems just yet — who knew Draco Malfoy, Ice Prince of Slytherin, would be able to produce a Patronus.

In no time at all, dozen pairs of eyes focused on Draco and Hadrian. The soft light of the candles made them appear a bit more manic than they probably were. Hopefully.

“Okay then…” Hadrian eyed the wands warily. He tightened his magic swirling around him and squared his shoulders. Then, he clasped his hands and grinned. “Let’s fill this room with happiness!”

xXxXxXx

“I can’t do it!” Luis gave up with a defeated sigh. He looked at his wand sadly, betrayed that it wouldn’t give him his protector when he so wished for one.

Kneeling down next to him, Hadrian laid a comforting hand on Luis’ shoulder.

“Why do you say that?” He asked.

“Because I can’t! It’s not— not—“ Luis huffed. “Nothing’s happening! Even when I try really hard!”

“I’m sure you do the motions perfectly and say the incantation with the right pronunciation,” Hadrian reassured him. “And I think exactly that is part of the problem.”

Luis looked to be at the wedge of tears. “But… why?” His lips wobbled. “I thought I was doing exactly what you said?”

Unsure of how to explain this, Hadrian took out his own wand. The smooth wood felt foreign in his hand, yet his fingers instinctively gripped it the right way.

“You know the light spell, right?” At Luis’ nod, Hadrian flicked his wand and carefully pronounced, “Lumos.”

— “Nothing happened!”

Hadrian nodded. “Yes,” he agreed with the wide eyed child. “Nothing happened even though I, like you, said and did everything right. I made sure I remembered the incantation and concentrated on the wand movement. You know what I didn’t concentrate on?” Hadrian laughed softly and gently brushed Luis’ hair back out of his face after his ferocious head-shake. “I didn’t concentrate on wanting to create light, because I was so preoccupied with other things. Just like you were.

“When casting Lumos, you want light because it’s too dark, or you want to annoy your friends, or you just want light. Can you do the Lumos for me?”

Hesitantly, the boy nodded. He drew his wand and flicked. “Lumos,” he said, with purpose and confidence in his tone, and in no time at all, a small light ignited at the tip of his wand.

“Very good.” Hadrian smiled at him, and Luis beamed with pride. “Now, you’ve probably done that spell dozens of times already and by now it’s easy as pie, am I right?”

“Yes.” Luis nodded. “I wanted to do it perfectly.”

“It is. And can you tell me what you think of when you use Lumos?”

Luis scrunched up his face in thought. After a while he shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The incantation, I guess? But it’s very simple, so I don’t really have to think of anything.”

“Well,” Hadrian said, a mischievous smile stealing itself on his lips. “If the spell is so simple, then do it again, but this time without saying Lumos.”

“But… what has this to do with the Patronus?”

“We’ll come to that, just trust me, do it.”

Lifting his wand once more, Luis stared at it intensely. Nothing happened. Not after ten seconds and not after twenty. Once half a minute had passed, Luis scowled.

“I need to say it, or it doesn’t work,” he complained.

Hadrian just hummed. “Close your eyes, Luis, and keep your wand like it is.” Frowning at him, more and more sceptical, the Ravenclaw did as asked. “Okay, now remember the first Lumos you made. Can you tell me the color it had?”

A little pause, then — “yellow-ish? I guess?”

“And where was it? Where did the light appear?”

“On my wand.”

Hadrian shook his head, even though Luis could not see it. “Where exactly on your wand? Did your whole wand light up, or just a strip in the middle, a dot at the bottom or top, a line straight through? Where was it?”

“Well.” Luis eyes were still closed and his wand held aloft, but his frown had vanished. “It was just a dot at the tip. I said Lumos and then it was there.” It was there now too, not that Luis could see it, but Hadrian did, Hadrian and at least ten other people who’d all stopped their casting and were watching the two of them intrigued.

“Okay. So the yellow-ish light lit the tip of your wand. Do you also remember how it looked like when it went out again?”

“Yes,” Luis said, but it was unneeded, as the moment he pictured it in his mind, as he could recall the way he was always done with the spell and didn’t need it anymore, the light on the tip of his wand extinguished.

“Ugh, silly me.” Hadrian chuckled lightly. “I’ve already forgotten again how it looked like when you lit it. Can you tell me again?”

Luis snickered a little and shrugged. “It’s easy. It’s just there when I do it.” And indeed it was; once more, his wand was lightened.

People around them gasped and started whispering to each other. Hadrian, however, only smiled.

“Extinguish it again.” It did. “Lighten it.” It did. “Open your eyes.” Luis did — and stopped. His mouth dropped open as he looked at his wand in amazement. Then, the light flickered and died.

Wide eyes found Hadrian’s.

“Did I do this?” Luis’ voice was coloured in shock and awe. He had just cast a spell without saying anything!

Hadrian nodded. “You did,” he told the boy. “It was perfect. I knew you could do it. Now do it again, but keep your eyes open. Just imagine the process, like you did before.”

Luis held his breath and broke out beaming once more when the spell did exactly as it did before; it worked — a bright light illuminated their faces.

Proud, Luis sought out Hadrian — the one person who’d been there for him and his friends since the start of the school year in this new school and answered all their questions — and found the boy sneering at him.

What?

Ice spread through his body and his stomach filled with dread. The light dimmed before Luis lowered his hand and his wand extinguished completely.

Why was Hadrian looking at him like that?

“Did—”

“That was pathetic,” Hadrian interrupted Luis, scoffing. “You think that tiny little light is something to be proud of? Please.” When Hadrian rolled his eyes disparagingly, Luis could feel his heart shatter into two.

His eyes teared up and he sniffled.

“Do a bigger Lumos,” Hadrian challenged him unkindly. “Make it brighter, or can you not do that, mh?”

“N-no, I can.” And he could. He really, really could. He had done it before!

Shaking slightly, Luis concentrated with all his might. He pictured his Lumos, but in big, and stared expectantly at his wand. For a second, light flared up, but then it vanished again. Luis tried again, and this time there wasn’t even a flicker.

His throat closed and he wanted to cry. Why didn’t it work anymore? And why was Hadrian suddenly so mean to him?

A tear rolled down his cheek before he could catch it and —

Strong, familiar arms closed around him and brought him into a warm embrace. Fisting the fabric, Luis buried his head into the crook of his neck.

“Oh Circe, I’m sorry, Luis, so so sorry,” Hadrian whispered into his hair. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. Shh, it’s all right, I’m sorry.” But the tears continued to flow and soak Hadrian’s clothing.

Why was he suddenly so nice again? And why was he so mean when he didn’t want it? Luis was just so confused and why couldn’t he stop crying?!

Hadrian, however, just continued to hold the little boy tightly. He soothed him softly while he ran his hand through the boy’s hair.

It took a while, but eventually, Luis’ hiccuped less and less and his breathing evened out again. Hadrian didn’t loosen his arms, and Luis didn’t seem to want to end the hug just yet.

“Hey,” Hadrian whispered after a while, his voice quiet and soft. “How do you feel?”

For a moment, Luis remained quiet and Hadrian almost feared that he’d pushed the boy too far, but then Luis twisted a bit in his hold so he could speak easier and his speech wasn’t muffled too much.

“Confused,” the boy said. “Sad, scared — did I do something wrong?”

Immediately, Hadrian shook his head. “No, never, you did perfect. I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

Furrowing his brows, Luis looked up at Hadrian. “Warned me of what?”

“Of what I was doing,” he answered. “When I was suddenly so mean, you didn’t manage to do the spell anymore. Did you notice? It was so bright before and then it slowly went out.”

Luis nodded into his chest. “I couldn’t—“ He broke off when it felt like he would just start crying again if he continued to talking. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Luis burrowed himself deeper into Hadrian’s arms. “It hurt, and I didn’t know why you were suddenly so… so mean, or what I did wrong and…”

Hadrian rubbed Luis’ back soothingly. “I should have been nicer, shouldn’t I? Would it have made you feel better?”

Wordlessly, Luis nodded.

“Is this better now?” Again, a wordless nod, and Hadrian carefully drew his wand, so Luis wouldn’t notice. “Would hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows help to make you feel even better?” This time, the nod was much more vigorous and when Luis looked at him now, there were no tears in his eyes anymore. Silently, his wand was turned in a perfect little circle and silvery mist started oozing out.

Hadrian smiled. “You know what? I bet a hug from your parents would feel even better.” A Phoenix solidified and swept through the room and filled everyone with the same warmth and happiness as Draco’s Basilisk had.

“They would have never let me been mean to you,” Hadrian continued, without an indication to Luis as to what he’d done. The little boy hadn’t noticed it yet. “They would have kicked my butt for being so horrible.”

Luis snickered. “They would have hexed you really bad for being so mean.”

Hadrian shuddered theatrically. “Oh,” he said, “then I best hide should I ever see them, huh.” Grinning, Luis nodded and Hadrian looked into his happy face — there was not a single trace left that not even five minutes ago, that boy had had his little heart broken.

Hadrian let his Patronus slowly fade away, and with it, the warmth it had brought, the happiness.

Instantly, Luis’ smile dimmed and he leaned more heavily into Hadrian. Hadrian, however, nudged his more upright. He gently clasped Luis’ wand hand which still held his wand enclosed.

Luis blinked up at him questioningly. “Close your eyes,” Hadrian whispered.

Still oh so trusting, Luis did so at once. Then he opened his mouth and questioned, just as quiet as Hadrian before him, “you won’t be mean again?”

“You know what I would do should I ever be mean to you again. And don’t forget your parents.” He then leaned down, tightened his arms around the boy and softly whispered the desired incantation into his ear.

“Expecto Patronum.” A silvery whist of vapour poured from Luis’ wand. He opened his eyes and his mouth dropped open in awe.

The Patronus wasn’t strong yet, and certainly not corporeal — not nearly corporal — but it was a start, and exactly the spur Luis and everybody else needed.

Around them, other people — Luis’ friends and students far older than him and far more experienced — gaped at them. Then the whispers started; a tiny half-blood first year had just managed what no-one else had done yet.

“How?” Someone from the crowd asked. Luis looked just as inquisitive.

Finally releasing Luis, Hadrian stepped back, but couldn’t quite stop himself from tousling his hair once more, just one last time. Then he looked around the room and shrugged.

“My boggart — the thing I most fear — is a Dementor. So when I learned the Patronus Charm, we used that as an incentive, of a sort. It’s the obvious choice, right? Patroni are the only known shield against Dementors and obviously no-one wants to be close to one. Me neither, I mean, I hear my parents dying, so why wouldn’t I want to drive them away, right?” A mirthless chuckle left his mouth. At the questioning looks he got, Hadrian shrugged.

“It didn’t quite work like we’d hoped. As you all know, my parents died when I was a baby.” The room fell into silence and each and every one of them listed to Hadrian with rapt attention. “I remembered nothing of them. Nothing. Up until I came face to face with a Dementor and I could hear their voices for the first time, the prove of their love for me, when they sacrificed their lives for me, when they begged their murderer to take them instead.

“When I eventually managed the spell, it was because a dear… friend of mine was about to be kissed. It wasn’t just my life on the line anymore, and in that moment something told me with such certainty that I could do the spell, that I just did it. And it was… it was amazing. I might not hear my parents anymore, but this feeling… I like to imagine that that is how their hugs would have felt.

“I produced my Patronus again, later on, when there were no Dementors around anymore, and I remember thinking — I want that feeling back. If that is what it felt like to be hugged by your parents, then the real thing must be a thousand times better. And how would it feel to come home to them? To have them pick you up from King’s Cross or to spend Yule with them? Or getting to have fun with your friends without worrying about anything? What would it feel like to be Superhero or to tame a Dragon? Just, anything that would give me that rush of endorphins back.

“I know that books and everyone else will probably tell you that, in order to produce a Patronus, you have to use your most powerful, happiest memory.” And he did just that. Hadrian took out his wand and said the spell like he had done so many times before. “Expecto Patronum.”

A silver light formed at the tip of his wand and some vapour fell to the ground, but nothing more. He smiled a bitter smile.

“If I did that, then I would have been Kissed by a Dementor years ago. I wouldn’t be able to do it; I am not able to do it. But, by Merlin, the thought that someone loves me unconditionally? Just because it’s not a memory doesn’t mean the joy and exhilaration I feel for that are in any way lesser. Sometimes, memories are just not enough, and that’s okay. Your imagination makes more than up for it in this case.”

And, to prove his words, he swirled his wand and once more, his Phoenix glided elegantly through the room, dispelling the sombre mood they seemed to have fallen into. This Phoenix might not have his song but it was a Patronus, and soon enough, the kids were talking excitedly amongst themselves once more.

Formerly dejected faces hardened into renewed determination. This day, almost everyone managed to produce at least a small cloud of happiness and safety.

Almost everyone, anyway. There were two people — a certain red-head and his brunette friend — who left the lesson long before everyone else, whispering to each other furiously, as their hearts threatened to beat out of their chests.

xXxXxXx

Hermione’s eyes flicked around the room. It should have been a normal classroom and yet— Tables were pushed together to form little groups. The blackboard was full of scribbles from the last tutoring session or drawn by kids who used the room to study during the week. Loose parchment was thrown around the room — some scrunched up in frustration, while others were neatly taped to the wall, filled with whimsical words and drawn-out wand movements with similar looking runes, Hermione deducted. There was even a world map spanning between two windows, but all the borders —

Hermione grimaced and her hands itched with the need to correct the… the whole map! Basically every country — be it their borders or even their names — were wrong!

Dear Merlin, who made this? And why would the Professors allow for this to stay up?

“Come,” Ron said softly, also looking around the room with no small amount of bafflement. “We can wait for Harry over there. We’re standing in the middle of the door and we don’t even know if this is the right room.”

The two huddled into a corner, out of the way of the rambunctious small kids or intensive study sessions.

Hermione marvelled at them.

Even though a lot of the information were obviously wrong and it physically hurt her to know that they learnt this as though it was the truth, they were studying! On a Friday afternoon! Without a teacher in sight! It was amazing. How could she have never noticed this. Had this room been here before or —

Hermione couldn’t believe she’s missed this. She shook her head. She was here for a purpose. Harry had said he was tutoring someone, but never specified who and in which class.

He wasn’t that good of a student — average at best — but he wasn’t an idiot. Probably DADA, Hermione thought. It made the most sense and he was really good at the practicals.

“Did Harry tell you who he was helping?” Hermione asked Ron, but the red-head shook his head.

“I didn’t even know he was helping someone,” he told her moodily. “He’s been so distant since the summer. He barely tells me anything. And the last few weeks he was always already in bed when I came and we couldn’t have him around our— you-know-what.”

Hermione nodded. She understood Ron, had noticed the same things even, still… She worried her lip. Whatever was happening to Harry, they would get him help, whatever it would take. At least this wasn’t something that weird rune-array was responsible for; there was no way Voldemort would make Harry tutor someone for some nefarious plot. That was all Harry himself.

It was good, even, that he found something worthwhile to do while Ron and her were preoccupied, instead of wasting all his time playing Quidditch or Exploding Snap.

“Let’s just see if we find the Gryffindors who are waiting for Harry; either that or Harry himself. I’m sure he’d love some help with some of the more complicated questions.” Ron groaned at that miserably, but did not oppose her. He knew that, however much he didn’t want it, it was important. For Harry.

Looking around the room once again to see some lonesome Gryffindor students sitting by themselves, both Ron and Hermione noted with surprise that there were actually no lone students, or groups from the same house.

There were Gryffindor students, yes, but they sat in a group with students from other houses. Every house. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, even Slytherin. And they weren’t all first years either. Even more were coming, still.

Soon, the room was packed. Students from all houses and different ages squeezed into the room that was definitely not meant to accommodate that many people at once. Hermione could barely look through the crowd. Ron had the advantage of having hit a growth spurt during the summer and standing taller than a lot of them.

Though, he was on the verge of giving up on finding Harry in this insanity, when he finally appeared… Or not. For a moment the boy looked like Harry, but he wasn’t— wait a moment… Ron did a double take. That was Harry. He had the scar, quite obviously, on his fully exposed forehead. But… what happened to him?

A little kid hung on him — probably the one he was tutoring (and why would he tutor a Ravenclaw? Couldn’t they study themselves? They were the smart house…) — and he was surrounded by—

Ron hissed. Of-bloody-course. After the show they made during potions it should have been obvious that there was something going on. Merlin, he never should have left Harry alone.

Hermione looked up at him questioningly. “Ron?” She asked. “What is it? Did you find him?”

Ron nodded. “He’s not alone,” he said quietly, never taking his eyes off of his friend. “Malfoy and his goons are with him. They did… something to him. Harry doesn’t seem to mind.”

Indeed he didn’t. If anything, the way he was smiling and talking back at them, it almost appeared like he had absolutely no problem with any of this.

Then, Ron could see how Harry’s eyes widened and he looked around the room as though he hadn’t seen it before. Maybe whatever Malfoy did wasn’t strong enough to for Harry; he’d managed to fight off the Imperious Curse, after all.

Then, a sinking feeling started to build in his stomach, when he registered Harry’s words.

“You are… more than I honestly expected.” How many had he expected? And why was he more surprised about the size of the group rather than all the different houses? And, “prepared beforehand—“ prepared with whom? Surely, he couldn’t be talking about the Slytherins that were still next to him, hitting him and trying to silence him!

Hermione looked at him worried. She, too, could see that something was wrong here.

Merlin, Harry should have come to them earlier. Surely he’d noticed that there was something wrong with him? For him to suddenly fight with Hermione and him, get along with Malfoy and Parkinson and all the other Slytherins. And showing off his scar like that? The Harry they knew would never do so willingly.

The longer this so called ‘tutoring’ went on, the stronger their uneasy feelings grew. And the fact that Malfoy could produce a Patronus? Dear Merlin.

There was no way their Harry would ever teach Malfoy or have the patience to teach all these other people. He’d always been so… so easily irritated and always on the jump. He didn’t just sit down for hours and explain the magic behind some spell. Most certainly, he would not bring a little child to tears and tell him such hurtful words. (It didn’t matter that it was a tactic, a tactic that, while cruel, worked and he immediately apologised. None of that mattered.)

Voldemort was controlling their friend, more and more and no-one but them seemed to notice. Not even Harry himself.

And then, worst of all, Harry’s Patronus. Or rather, his not-Patronus. Because Harry’s Patronus was a stag, not a phoenix.

Swallowing the fear creeping up her throat, Hermione grabbed Ron’s wrist and dragged him through the thick crowd, unconcerned about all the people they pumped into.

The hallway was blessedly empty and, for what seemed to be the first time since Harry had stepped into the room, Hermione could draw a proper breath.

Ranking a shaking hand through her hair and leaving it even more wild than before, she turned to Ron. His eyes, when he met hers, mirrored her alarm perfectly.

“We need to know the exact runes that were used on Harry! Immediately!” Ron nodded frantically. Honestly, it was the only thing he was currently able to do, as shocked as he was.

“And we need to tell the Headmaster. I know that Harry said he already knows about this, but maybe he was already too far gone and lied. Or Professor Dumbledore himself is looking for a solution and didn’t want to worry Harry. We have to do something!”

“I can do it! Today! Or, err, tomorrow! I will manage!” Ron promised. How exactly he planned to do it, he did not yet know, but somehow, he’d find a way. Even if it meant Harry would be mad at him. As soon as this nightmare was over, he’d understand. After all, he would only do it to help him. If Harry couldn’t fight Voldemort, then no-one could.

Hermione looked at him worriedly, uncertainty glinting in her brown eyes. Seeing Ron’s conviction, however, she gave him a quivering smile.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. It’s Hogsmeade-weekend, I’ll see if I can’t find some more… obscure books, while you get the runes. If not, there’s always the restricted section. We can use his invisibility cloak to get in, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Ron took a deep, fortifying breath. Everything would turn out fine. They could do this.