Year 5-11: Cold Feet

Harry hoped – perhaps naively – that once the House tensions between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cooled off after the Quidditch match, Katie would start acting normally again. But she continued to avoid him during and after classes the following week, disappearing down halls whenever he tried to catch up with her. It seemed that Alicia was right: this was more than just her taking the loss badly. Something was fundamentally wrong between them.

Still, Harry figured that things would blow over eventually. She would either come back to him and apologize, or break up with him. And truthfully, neither option particularly appealed to him more than the other. He had much more pressing matters to attend to than guessing what the problem might be, and had no desire to make things worse by sticking his neck out to try and solve it. So he continued on with his routine as though nothing was wrong...the ball was in Katie's court, after all.

But apparently that was not the right solution. Harry left the Great Hall on Friday morning and made his way towards the dungeons for his Potions class. However, as he passed through the halls, an arm slipped into his and guided him into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them. Harry turned to see his sister Dahlia glaring at him, hands on hips.

"What's going on between you and Katie?" she demanded.

"Now, who's nosing into other people's business?" Harry scoffed. "Bit hypocritical if you ask me—"

"Save it," said Dahlia. "She's been moping in the common room all week. Angelina and Alicia are going spare trying to cheer her up. What the hell did you do? If you hurt that girl, so help me—"

"I would never hurt her!" Harry protested. "We just...haven't been talking lately. I tried to tell her I've just been busy, but she still thinks I'm neglecting her."

"When was the last time you spent quality time with her?" asked Dahlia.

"Erm…" said Harry, thinking back. "I dunno, maybe last term?"

"Harryyy!" Dahlia groaned. "That's no way to treat a girl! I would go crazy if I didn't get to see my boyfriend for months at a time!"

"What do you want from me?" Harry demanded. "It's my O.W.L. year, I have Quidditch, and there's a war going on. How am I supposed to make the time?"

"Let me ask you something," said Dahlia, crossing her arms. "Why do you like Katie?"

Harry scratched his head, contemplating this. "She's easy to spend time with," he said. "I always feel relaxed when I'm with her. She doesn't pester me about little things...well, until recently, I guess."

"Katie doesn't like to pester people, either," Dahlia pointed out. "But lately, it's been the only way to get your attention, hasn't it?"

"Well, if she's got something to say, why doesn't she come out and say it directly?" Harry demanded.

Dahlia considered this for a moment. "Maybe she's tired of putting all the effort into the relationship," she suggested. "Maybe she's waiting for you to take the next step on your own. She doesn't want to have to pester you for everything – she wants you to take the initiative for once."

"You're saying she thinks I'm a doormat?" Harry said indignantly. "That I can't take the lead if I want to?"

"Don't twist my words and go all caveman about it! She hasn't gotten any indication from you that you even want to continue seeing her. You never come to her with anything – she has to do all the work to keep things going."

"She told you that?"

"She didn't have to...loads of people can see it. People think you're just stringing her along, and Katie's sick of it."

"But that's not what I'm doing at all!" Harry groaned. "I care about Katie. It's just...I don't…"

"You don't see a long-term future with her?" Dahlia suggested.

Harry blinked. He hadn't considered things in those terms before. "Erm...yeah, maybe," he admitted. "I like spending time with her, but it's a lot of effort."

"And you don't think Katie is worth that effort?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it."

"Well...it's not not true," Harry said begrudgingly. "I don't like to think about serious things when I'm with her. I enjoyed her company when I just wanted to forget about my troubles for a while. But I can't afford to do that anymore."

"So why are you still with her?" Dahlia demanded.

"I don't know," Harry groaned. "I didn't want to upset her, I guess."

"You have to break up with that girl, Harry," said Dahlia firmly. "She's unhappy, and you're not doing anybody any favors by dragging things out."

"I don't get it," Harry said, exasperated. "If she's so unhappy, why doesn't she break up with me?"

"You still don't understand how people look at you around here, Harry," Dahlia sighed. "Everyone thinks you're the next Dumbledore. You'll be more powerful and influential than anyone in Britain someday. How could Katie even consider breaking things off with someone like that? You could put her through absolute hell and she would still try to patch things up with you, because she doesn't want to make an enemy of you."

"That's...not fair," Harry muttered. "I could never take advantage of her like that, and I would never think poorly of her for walking away."

"Then do the right thing and cut the poor girl loose. She deserves closure, and you deserve to move on. It'll be best for everybody involved, including those of us who have had to try and console her recently."

Harry felt a pang of guilt at this last jab. But of course he knew she was right. "Alright," he sighed. "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't mention it," said Dahlia. "It does me no favors either, you know, to have my brother bumbling around and making an arse of himself around my friends."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Harry groaned. "Now your turn. Want to tell me what's going on with you and McLaggen?"

Dahlia quirked an eyebrow at her brother. "Not a chance," she sniffed, before turning and strolling out of the classroom and out of sight.

Harry chuckled to himself...his sister was a deeply caring person, but fiercely stubborn and resistant to meddling in her own affairs. She can take care of herself, Harry figured, before following her out to the hall and heading to class. And Dahlia was absolutely right: he had to let Katie (and himself) off the hook so they could both move on.

He decided he would tell her that afternoon, after Charms class. But she disappeared down the hall before he could reach her, so he decided on later that weekend. But he didn't see her anywhere in the castle over the coming days, so he settled on Monday. Then on Monday he got cold feet and resolved to do it sometime later that week.

Why is this so bloody difficult? Harry thought bitterly to himself. He would much rather ask another ten girls to the Yule Ball than have such a simple conversation with his girlfriend. Would she be upset with him? Would she yell and call him names, or would she cry and beg for him back? He didn't know which was worse, and didn't care to find out which was the case. The moment will present itself soon, Harry told himself. No use in stressing over it now.

In the meantime, he remained busy with his own preparations. Under the cover of darkness in his warded four-poster bed late at night, he perused the book Krum had given him, outlining some truly gruesome blood rituals he could perform. He ruled most of them out, although he quickly identified which ones Voldemort had undoubtedly performed on himself. A few in particular took advantage of snake ingredients to heighten one's magical prowess, and Harry wondered if that was how the Dark Lord had taken on such a snakelike visage in the previous timeline.

A couple did look promising, however. One heightened the user's reflexes and natural senses, though it required the live sacrifice of a rabbit to perform. Harry knew intuitively that most potion ingredients came from dead animals, of course, but the thought of slaughtering one himself made him a tad squeamish. Other recipes weren't quite as bloodthirsty, but required ingredients that Harry had no clue where to find. Perhaps he could write back to Krum, or if he was feeling particularly bold, make a disguised trip into Knockturn Alley to look for them.

But a couple looked promising, requiring no acts of murder and ingredients he knew he could get his hands on. He filed them away for future reference, with hopes of performing them the following summer. The reflex enhancer remained appealing to him in the back of his mind, however – he could envision how useful that would be in combat, and knew it might be necessary to fight Voldemort one day. Surely saving the world from a Dark Lord could justify killing one small animal, right?

Meanwhile, Harry's class work was getting more difficult, as his fifth-year courses were ramping up to the end-of-year O.W.L.'s he had not yet completed. Most of them he wasn't worried about, but Ancient Runes remained a difficult subject he hadn't yet had time to get ahead in, and History of Magic was all but futile with such a useless teacher in Professor Binns. At least he didn't have to worry about studying Defense any more, but Percy remained a taskmaster of a professor, assigning copious homework to his sixth-years and continuing to grade Harry's tests and essays harshly.

Harry also hosted another defense club meeting, where the other students were making rapid progress. Most were slowly getting into better physical shape to keep up with the rigors Harry put them through, and their aim was steadily improving as well. Progress with the Patronus Charm was slow, though Hermione joined Neville and Cedric in successfully producing a corporeal Patronus, her otter soaring overhead alongside the bear and lynx.

Harry tried to catch Katie on the way out of the lesson, but as usual, she bolted from the room as soon as it ended. She seemed as determined to avoid this conversation as he was. I'll do it at Hogsmeade this weekend, he decided. He was sick of feeling that knot of tension in his stomach every time he was around her. He had to just rip the band-aid off and end it, for both of their sake.

He caught a carriage into the village with a group of fellow Ravenclaws, lost in his own thoughts as his classmates laughed and gossiped around him. It was the first time he'd be visiting Hogsmeade without Katie in over a year. He hated to spoil a perfectly-good day off with such unpleasant business, but it was a rare opportunity where he knew she'd be there and couldn't retreat to her common room at the drop of a hat.

The weather was appropriately bleak for the occasion – dreary, overcast, and frigidly cold. It wasn't snowing, but temperatures were below freezing and just stepping out of the carriage made him yearn to curl up in a ball. Even his best Warming Charms couldn't entirely cancel out the misery the cold brought him, and he resolved to find Katie and be done with it as soon as possible so he could spend the remainder of the day in front of a fire somewhere.

The Three Broomsticks was packed when Harry walked in, with students crowding into booths to enjoy the warmth and hot chocolate Madam Rosmerta was serving. He scanned the room for Katie, but didn't spot her or the other Gryffindor Chasers anywhere. He did see Neville, Ron and Hermione deep in conversation at a table, as well as McLaggen and his sister, laughing and flirting in a corner booth. He blanched at the latter and turned away from the scene, intending to take his search elsewhere…

"Hello, Harry!" a singsong voice called out to him. Luna Lovegood was seated nearby, somehow at a table all by herself despite the cramped atmosphere. Harry wondered how she'd gotten so lucky, but then figured that simply nobody wanted to sit next to the odd girl.

"Hi, Luna," Harry greeted her, slipping into an empty seat across from her. "Having a fun weekend?"

"Yes, though it's dreadfully cold," Luna muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. "And I fear it's only going to get colder."

"Right," Harry muttered. He wondered once again if this was a literal prediction, or a metaphorical one...considering what he had planned with Katie later, it was likely the latter. "How's your father doing?"

"Daddy's sales are through the roof this year," Luna beamed. "He never thought reporting on Ministry politics could be so lucrative."

"Well, he's just about the only one doing it properly these days," Harry said dryly. "I've been meaning to send him a letter...he's too kind for defending me and my father from the press."

"He has received several angry letters from the Ministry, accusing him of libel," Luna sighed. "But he's never backed down from pressure before. He was almost arrested after he exposed the previous Minister for covering up her underground Mooncalf fighting ring."

"Well, hats off to quality journalism," Harry chuckled. Xenophilius Lovegood may be a strange man, but he always struck Harry as principled and fiercely loyal to those he cared about. Apparently making friends with Luna was paying dividends...now he could only hope the man didn't face any blow-back for supporting the Potters publicly.

"You look tense, Harry," Luna frowned. "Something the matter?"

"Erm...yes, actually," Harry sighed. "I'm looking for Katie. I'm going to break up with her today."

"Hmm, shame, that," Luna hummed. "But maybe it's for the best, if she is no longer the right person for you."

"No longer?" Harry repeated. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, sometimes a person can be right for you at one moment, but not the next," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Katie was perfect for you last year, when you needed an escape. But now, you don't have time to escape, so she isn't the right person for you anymore."

"Huh," said Harry. He'd long ago suppressed the instinct to dismiss Luna's odd philosophies out of hand, and actually considered what she was saying. "And who d'you think is the right person for me now?"

"Maybe there is no right person now," said Luna. "Daddy always says you have to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with other people. Maybe you need to re-discover what makes you happy before the next right person comes along."

Luna took a deep gulp of her Butterbeer and began humming along to the music playing overhead as though she hadn't said anything of particular import. Harry could only laugh in amazement.

"You're a good friend, Luna," said Harry. "Sorry if I haven't been as good of a friend back to you lately."

"That isn't true at all," Luna said firmly. "I don't need your attention all the time to know you're my friend. I'm just not the right person for you right now, either."

"Right now, huh?" Harry smirked, arching an eyebrow playfully. "So you think you might be in the future?"

"Who can say but Time itself?" Luna shrugged, before resuming her little hum. Harry chuckled to himself again – as usual, his attempt at humor fell flat against Luna's oblivious earnestness. Or maybe she wasn't as oblivious as he thought? It was impossible to tell for sure with her sometimes.

Harry glanced out the window and happened to spot Katie, Alicia and Angelina hurrying down the path past the pub. "Sorry, Luna, gotta run," he muttered, and rushed out of the building after them. "KATIE!"

The three Chasers turned, and Katie's face fell when she saw him. "What?" she asked.

"Can we talk, please?" Harry said. "In private?"

Katie looked to her two friends, who merely shrugged. She followed Harry around the corner to a secluded spot – not far from where they'd snogged during their first date, Harry realized. Unbidden images flitted through his mind, causing him to reminisce, to remember all the good times they'd had… No, he told himself firmly. This has to happen.

"Well?" Katie said expectantly.

"Erm...how are you?" Harry asked weakly.

"You called me over here to ask that?" Katie scoffed.

"C'mon, we haven't talked since the Quidditch match!" Harry groaned. "Am I not allowed to ask how my girlfriend is doing?"

"I'm still your girlfriend, then, am I?" Katie asked.

"Well...yeah, I assumed so," Harry said lamely. "But, well, actually...I guess we need to talk about that."

Katie didn't say anything. She merely folded her arms and stared at him (though the former gesture may have been to stop herself from shivering in the biting cold). Rip off the band-aid, Harry told himself.

"I've been doing some thinking lately," Harry sighed. "And I think maybe it's best that we...well...don't date anymore."

"We haven't been on a date in months," Katie pointed out.

"That's not what I meant," Harry sighed. "I mean...our relationship. You and me. No more."

Katie blinked twice at his awkward phrasing. "You're breaking up with me?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry muttered. "And I'm really sorry about everything. I just don't have time for a girlfriend right now. But I enjoyed spending time with you, and I hope we can still be friends."

Katie stared at him for a long while, as they stood shivering in the tiny alleyway. Harry waited for her to blow up at him, to say he was a terrible person, or to burst out into tears and make him feel like a monster. But Katie didn't do any of that.

"Kay," she said softly, and turned and walked away to rejoin her friends.

Harry watched her go, momentarily stunned. He'd expected some kind of big resolution, some indication that he'd done the right (or the wrong) thing. His first major relationship was now over with a whimper rather than a bang, and he just felt...empty about it. No sadness, no relief, not regret...just a dull sense of finality.

It's for the best, Harry reminded himself. The worst of it is over. Now we can move on.

But that didn't make it any better in the moment. Harry trudged miserably down the high street, wishing he were anywhere else but here. It was bitingly cold, down to the bone, which only intensified his feelings of self-hatred. He headed towards the carriages, intending to head back to the castle early and wallow in the common room for the rest of the afternoon—

He stopped dead in his tracks. Something was wrong here. The cold felt unnatural to him – almost magically enhanced. A dark presence lurked nearby, causing the abnormal chill he felt attacking him from all sides. He turned back towards the village, eyes drawn up towards the sky, and what he saw horrified him.

Dementors.

But not just a small handful. Hundreds of them, descending silently out of the clouds, swooping down towards the village. And not a soul besides him was yet aware of their presence.

Harry had to act fast. He drew his wand and fired a Concussive Charm up into the air. It sailed about a hundred feet upwards and exploded with tremendous force, sending a deafening boom that would be heard for miles.

Windows on storefronts shattered, and students and villagers alike screamed with alarm. But that was the intent. They would all be alerted to the danger, and hopefully the staff up at the castle would come to investigate as well.

"Expecto patronum," Harry muttered, and his thestral Patronus burst into existence, turning to him for instructions. "Go to my dad. Tell him there are hundreds of dementors in Hogsmeade and students are in danger. Send as much backup as possible." The thestral reared up and shot off into the sky, disappearing over the horizon.

But Harry quickly realized that he would now be unable to cast another Patronus for several minutes until the message was received. The dementors were getting closer now, circling the rooftops, zeroing in on all the fresh souls just waiting to be collected. And there were next to no adults there to protect them.

Harry had studied dementors briefly during his preparation for the Third Task the year before. The Patronus Charm was the most effective deterrent, but there were others, less potent but nonetheless ways to buy time. And there was no time to waste.

"Incendio maxima!" Harry bellowed. A wall of flame shot out from his wand, billowing and expanding like a massive curtain. Harry directed it over the rooftops of the village, blanketing Hogsmeade in a canopy of flame. But Harry did not have the strength to cover the entire village, nor would the flames last long against the extreme chill of the dementors. He could only hope it would buy them time before the Ministry arrived.

"Harry!" a voice shouted from down the road; Cedric came running up, a handful of older students behind him. "What's happening? What do we do?"

"Round up anyone who can cast the Patronus Charm!" Harry panted, struggling with the exertion of maintaining such a high output of flames. "Even non-corporeal ones – every bit helps!"

"What if we can't cast a Patronus Charm?" asked a fearful Mark Davis, as Tracey and Daphne looked fearfully at him.

"Use fire," Harry directed. "Tell the younger students to get inside somewhere, and man the doors and windows!"

Cedric nodded, and he turned and began barking instructions at the other students. Harry was grateful for it – he needed someone else to take a position of authority. He couldn't do this all on his own.

Meanwhile, Harry's wall of fire was quickly faltering. Small patches were being snuffed here and there, as the dementors swooped low over it, their chill extinguishing the flames. The cold was starting to permeate his entire body again, and with it, a sense of despair. He was going to lose everything...he would never see his family again...he would never know love…

Then, hope rushed back into him as a silver stag appeared on the street before him, giving off a brilliant warmth that reminded him of his father's authoritative presence. "Alerting the Aurors now," the stag spoke in James' voice. "We'll be there within minutes. Hang on."

The voice gave Harry a second wind, a resolve to fight on. Better yet, he now knew his message had been received, which freed him up to use his own Patronus Charm. He closed his eyes and pictured his family, smiling and laughing around the dinner table, and his desire to see them all together again. "Expecto patronum!"

The silver thestral erupted into existence before him, filling him with immediate warmth and relief. But Harry couldn't bask in its presence for long. He directed it up over the rooftops, where the dementors were still circling, still searching for avenues of attack. The thestral charged them down, forcing them back – a writhing mass of darkness, hovering menacingly over Hogsmeade. It would not be enough on its own.

Then Harry heard a guttural roar to his left, and turned to see a silver bear lumbering down the road, jumping up to swipe at the dementors overhead. It joined the thestral above the rooftops, fending off the darkness with its ethereal glow. Neville was shuffling down the street towards Harry, trembling slightly from the effort of maintaining his Patronus.

"Keep going, Neville," Harry encouraged the boy. "Backup is on the way. We just have to hold out a little longer."

A silver lynx emerged moments later, joining the thestral and bear in the sky as Cedric reappeared beside Neville. "Most students are taking shelter inside the Three Broomsticks," he panted.

"Let's head that direction," Harry suggested. The three Patronuses alone would not be able to defend the whole village – they would need to focus their energy on one spot to hold the dementors back, and the Three Broomsticks was as good a place as any. The three boys directed their spectral animals overhead as they carefully made their way up the road towards the center of the village.

Three more Patronuses appeared out of nowhere: a swan, a tiger, and a goat joining the others in fending off the wave of darkness. "Keep it up, boys!" a voice barked; Harry recognized the barman of the Hog's Head advancing towards them, flanked on either side by two other store owners. The six Patronuses ducked and weaved around one another, taking turns in fighting back the dementors, which remained determined to claim the souls of all within the village.

They reached the Three Broomsticks, and Harry could see jets of flame spewing out from every door and window of the building as the students defended themselves as best they could. The thatched roof of the pub was even beginning to catch fire, but the chill of dementors overhead extinguished it instantly every time. The Patronuses soared over to aid in defending the building, but it still wasn't enough. Neville and Cedric were fading fast, and Harry wouldn't be far behind them...maintaining his thestral was sapping him of all his strength…

Then Harry felt a rush of intense heat, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He'd only felt such a heat once before, in his third year, and he was fearful as he turned to see the source.

Fiendfyre – three flaming serpentine heads, twisting and waving between one another as they descended upon the village. Harry, Neville and Cedric gaped at the fearsome sight in awe.

The fiery heads spotted the boys and hissed their displeasure, lunging forward towards them. But at the last second they swerved away, soaring overhead and over the rooftops. Harry heard the inhuman screeches of dementors as they fled the scorching heat, a handful getting hit and bursting into flame. The writhing mass of darkness overhead scattered, abandoning their assault on the Three Broomsticks to avoid a fiery death. (Could dementors actually die? Harry wasn't entirely sure.)

A lone figure was walking shakily up the path towards them, directing the fiery serpents: Albus Dumbledore, face scrunched up in intense concentration, the snow and ice melting away from his feet as he commanded the Fiendfyre. Harry and the others rushed up to him. "Sir, the Aurors are on their way," Harry said quickly. "What should we do?"

"Keep them away from the buildings!" Dumbledore grunted, sweat beading on his brow as he wrestled mentally with the serpents. Harry knew that Fiendfyre was incredibly difficult to control, which is what made it so dangerous to use. The Headmaster was trembling slightly from the effort, and he gave off a powerful burning heat, preventing Harry from getting too close to him.

Harry directed his thestral Patronus to dart in and out of the flames, filling in the gaps left behind by the fiery serpents. The bear and the lynx joined in, along with the other three Patronuses down the road, keeping the dementors up in the sky and away from the village. The creeping chill of the dementors was slowly fading, kept at bay by the network of scorching flames and glowing Patronuses in the sky.

But even Dumbledore was struggling to maintain his defenses. The serpents were beginning to lash out, attempting to turn back upon the caster, prevented from doing so only by the Headmaster's ironclad will. But the old man was struggling, and Harry knew he could not hold on for long...there were simply too many of them…

Then, pops began to ring out as wizards dressed in purple robes appeared throughout the village. Aurors, Harry thought with relief. Shouts of 'Expecto patronum' began to ring out from all around them, and dozens of Patronuses erupted into existence, joining the battle and herding the swarming cloaked beings away from the village. Soon the unnatural cold faded almost entirely as the dementors were forced higher and higher into the sky, corralled into a tight area and surrounded by glowing spectral beasts.

"You can let go now, sir," Harry said to Dumbledore. "The Ministry are here."

The Headmaster swiped his wand, canceling the Fiendfyre. The stream of flames issuing from his wand ceased, but the serpent heads remained, turning once more towards their caster. They hissed malevolently and rushed at Dumbledore, eager to eliminate one last target before their existence ended—

"No!" Dumbledore bellowed, his voice suddenly sharp and commanding as it rang out across the town square. The serpent heads stopped short, hissing their displeasure before being consumed from the inside out, evaporating in a wisp of dark smoke.

As soon as the Fiendfyre was gone, Dumbledore stumbled and nearly toppled over. Harry and Cedric caught him on either side. They began to lower him down to the ground, but Dumbledore shook his head and twirled his wand, summoning an armchair and sinking back into it with a tired groan.

"Sir, shall I go find a Healer for you?" Cedric asked Dumbledore. The old man was bent forward, head clutched in trembling hands.

"No, thank you, Mr. Diggory," Dumbledore said tiredly. "My magic is spent, but I will be alright. See to the others first."

Harry had never seen the Headmaster look so frail before. Dumbledore usually carried himself with an air of power, a confident sense of sheer brilliance and might. But right now he looked every bit the old man he was – still one of the most gifted wizards alive, but far past his physical and magical prime. Neville stared at Dumbledore wide-eyed, perhaps recognizing for the first time that the man was not as immortal and invincible as many believed.

"What is happening here?" demanded a reedy voice. Percy Weasley was hustling up the path to the village, eyes drawn to the sky in horror. "Are those dementors?!"

"They just appeared out of nowhere," Harry muttered. "I raised the alarm as soon as I could."

Percy stared at Harry, clearly torn between his dislike of the boy and his apparent realization that Harry may have saved all of his siblings with his actions. But he was spared a response by the arrival of another, equally unwanted presence.

"Ah good, Wimby, you're already here," said Fudge as he strolled into the square, flanked on either side by Kingsley and Dawlish. "What on earth happened here?"

"The village was attacked by dementors, Minister," Harry said, gesturing to the mass of cloaked beings still floating hundreds of feet overhead. A giant silvery cage had been erected in the sky, and dozens of Ministry officials were now herding the dementors inside, presumably to transport them away.

"Yes, I can see that," Fudge said snippily. "And what on earth are my dementors doing this far from their post?"

"Your dementors?" Harry repeated, aghast. "These are under Ministry employ?"

"Well of course," Fudge scoffed, as though this was obvious. "Every other dementor was expelled from Europe centuries ago. There's only one place these lot could have come from."

Harry's stomach sank at this thought. "Azkaban?" he asked. "Sir, who's guarding the prison if the dementors are here?"

"That's what I bloody intend to find out!" Fudge said indignantly. "Where the hell is Amelia Bones? Isn't the DMLE responsible for dementor control? Or is this some stunt of your father's again, boy?"

"My dad is here protecting the students," Harry said firmly. "Why would he endanger the lives of his own children by sending them here?"

"Hmph," Fudge muttered, clearly seeing the logic in this. "Well, something's fishy about this, very fishy indeed…"

"Cornelius," came a weak voice. Everyone turned to see Dumbledore standing shakily from his chair. "Only one man could have swayed this many dementors to defy their orders. I have told you my suspicions. I fear the day has come."

A look of fear flashed across Fudge's face for a brief moment, before it was replaced by a cruel look of disdain. "You continue to spout this fantasy, Albus?" Fudge scoffed. "You believe the Dark Lord would dare attack the most impenetrable prison in the world?"

"Look at the evidence above you, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the sky. "The guards have been sent hundreds of miles from their post. The prison is undefended. Your insistence on using creatures as guards instead of wizards may have cost us dearly."

Fudge looked stricken by this possibility. He glanced up at the swarm of dementors above, swallowing thickly.

"Shacklebolt!" he barked. "Go to Azkaban and see to the state of affairs there."

"Yes, Minister," said Kingsley, bowing low before disappearing with a crack of Apparation.

"In the meantime," said Fudge, "inquiries must be made here. Someone has cast Fiendfyre in the vicinity of a wizarding village, a terribly dangerous act—"

"It was I, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. "It was the only way to keep the dementors at bay until backup arrived. A single Patronus would not have been enough—"

"That is highly illegal and dangerous dark magic, Dumbledore!" said Fudge pompously. "And to use it so close to hundreds of students? The Wizengamot will not be happy to learn their children were put to such risk!"

"It was necessary to prevent them from a much worse fate," Dumbledore muttered. "In the meantime, we should ensure that none of them suffered a Kiss and that they are all accounted for."

"I agree wholeheartedly," said Amelia Bones, who had just appeared down the street flanked by her underlings. "This can wait until after we've seen to the safety of the students, wouldn't you agree, Minister?"

"Ah, look who decided to show up!" Fudge said pompously as he leered at Amelia. "The dementors fall under your purview, do they not, Madam Bones? Parents will not be happy to learn that your negligence led to putting their children in danger."

"The dementors were clearly swayed by a more powerful Dark agent," said Amelia. "As I warned you was possible in our meeting last December, Cornelius, or have you already forgotten?" Fudge and Amelia glared at one another for a few tense seconds.

"Perhaps this can wait," Harry said tersely. "My sister is out there somewhere, and I intend to go and make sure she's alright."

"As is my niece," Amelia agreed. "We can point fingers at each other on Monday morning."

"If you still have your job by then!" Fudge scoffed at her retreating backside. He gave one more disdainful look towards Harry and Dumbledore before turning and stalking off.

Harry turned back to the Headmaster. "Go on, Harry," said Dumbledore before Harry could speak. "I know you're worried about your sister. I will be alright."

"I'll take him up to Madam Pomfrey," said Cedric. "And I won't hear a word otherwise, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore allowed Cedric to help him up out of his seat and guide him up the path towards the carriages up to the castle. Harry and Neville shared a look before rushing towards the Three Broomsticks. The roof of the building was still smoldering, but jets of water were now issuing out onto it to extinguish the flames. Students were pouring out of the pub, most looking terrified, a few with their hair slightly singed from all the fire being thrown around to defend them.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd until he spotted Rosmerta near the double doors, shepherding students out of the building. "Madam Rosmerta!" he shouted. "Have you seen my sister, Dahlia?"

"Potter?" Rosmerta asked. "Think I saw her head south when the madness began."

Harry's heart dropped. Dahlia wasn't in the Three Broomsticks when the dementors arrived? Where the hell was she, then? He took off in a dead sprint towards the southern end of the village, a feeling of dread rising within him. More and more buildings had caught fire as he passed down the road, as Ministry officials and shopkeepers were working to extinguish the flames. Had other students been forced to take shelter in less-populated buildings?

He rounded the corner and came upon Zonko's Joke Shop – or what was left of it. The two-story building, usually adorned with eye-catching decorations, sat in smoldering ruins, burned entirely to the ground. Harry wondered if the students' fire defenses had caused the collapse, or if Dumbledore hadn't had as much control over his Fiendfyre as he'd reassured Fudge.

A pitiful whine caught Harry's attention, and his heart caught in his throat when he spotted a small pair of legs jutting out from the side of the building. He sprinted over to the injured student, nearly delirious with fear at who it might be, at who he might have lost—

"There there, Anna," came a soothing voice as Harry pulled up short. "It's not hurting so much anymore, is it?"

To Harry's relief, Dahlia was kneeling beside the younger girl, a third-year Hufflepuff. His sister was waving her wand gently over the girl's left leg, which was bent at an odd angle, but slowly began to reform and straighten alongside the other as Dahlia went to work.

"B-back still hurts," the girl named Anna muttered miserably. "C-can't move."

"Yes, your spine is broken in two places," said Dahlia gently as she finished re-setting the broken leg. "I'm not qualified to fix that myself. But the Healers will be here soon to transport you to St. Mungo's, and you'll be as good as new in no time. Okay?"

"Okay," Anna cried softly.

Dahlia looked up to see Harry standing over them. "Are you hurt?" she asked him. "Do you need healing?"

"I...no, I'm fine," said Harry. "I was looking for you. What happened?"

"That prat Cormac ran for it when the dementors arrived," Dahlia said bitterly. "I ran after him, but I heard screaming from Zonko's and came to help. The Fiendfyre saved us, but it also caused the building to come down on us."

"Was anyone else inside?" Harry asked, peering into the wreckage.

"Don't think so," said Dahlia. "Mark Davis came and directed people to the Three Broomsticks just before. Thank Merlin for him, because more people might have been caught in the collapse otherwise."

"Good thing," Harry muttered, intending to thank the boy personally the next time he saw him. He turned his attention to the girl lying prone on the ground. "Is she going to be alright?"

"Oh, yes, she'll be just fine," said Dahlia, smiling down at the frightened Hufflepuff. "You remember Anna Watson?"

"How are you feeling, Anna?" asked Harry, kneeling beside the girl. "You're in our cousin Damian's class, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Anna shakily. "He was really mean to me in our first year, but he's mellowed out since then."

"Good to hear," said Harry. "If he gives you any more trouble, let me know and I'll hex him for you, okay?" Anna giggled at the joke, then winced from the back pain it caused her (causing Dahlia to give her brother a reproachful look).

"Harry! Dahlia!" a voice shouted, as James came running around the corner, looking pale but unharmed. "Thank Merlin. Are either of you hurt?"

"No, but Anna here needs to get to St. Mungo's right away," said Dahlia.

"Healers are on the way," said James, wrapping his two children in a hug. "What on earth happened here?"

"The dementors just appeared out of nowhere," said Harry. "They had to have come from Azkaban."

"But why here of all places?" James wondered aloud. "Hogsmeade is well inland, and there are plenty of Muggle and wizarding villages closer to the coast. Why would they come here?"

"It can't have been an accident," Harry said grimly. "Someone sent them here specifically. Probably as a diversion."

"A diversion?" asked Dahlia. "From what?"

Before Harry could pose his theory, they were interrupted by the appearance of a silver Patronus. The lynx bounded up the street, pausing before them in a regal pose. When it opened its mouth, it spoke in the deep baritone of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice:

"Azkaban has been attacked. Guards dead. High-profile prisoners have all escaped."

There was a chilling silence after the lynx disappeared into mist. Harry and James shared a knowing look. At once James took off down the road, no doubt to coordinate with his fellow Aurors and plan their next steps.

Harry stood stock-still, heart hammering. He'd known this day might come, but it filled him with dread all the same. A dozen Death Eaters, back on the streets. Gilderoy Lockhart would be among them, the 'Reaver of Memories'. So too would be equally-dangerous men like Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood, bolstering Voldemort's inner circle even further.

But one escapee stood out in his mind especially. He could still hear her laughter ringing in his ears, the last thing he'd ever heard in his previous timeline. The woman who had killed his godfather in a past life. The woman who had stolen his grandparents from him in this life. Harry's blood boiled as he pictured Bellatrix Lestrange, reunited with her master, laughing her insane laugh and plotting Merlin-knows-what chaos and mass destruction.

You won't take anyone else from me, Bellatrix, Harry thought determinedly. I'll make sure you never hurt my loved ones ever again.

A/N: I forgot that Kingsley's Patronus was a lynx when I invented Cedric's Patronus. So there are just going to be two lynx Patronuses in the world now, I guess, as confusing as that might get in the future. Whoops!