Purple Rain.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?" There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry, slightly defensive.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er— you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked. The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So— is it true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry and a couple of people laughed. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill the basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

"Er— yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender said "wow" softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone—"

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville. Hannah's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho, smiling at Harry, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year— getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things..."

"And, of course, the smaller things," (Y/n) chimed. "Joining a Quidditch team in his first year, casting a Patronus on the dementors and still winning the game, saving two hostages, and, perhaps the bravest thing he has done, survive a week and a half in detention with Umbridge."
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look pleased with himself.  The fact that two pretty girls had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.

"Look," said Harry and everyone fell silent at once, "I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Yeah, well—" said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias Smith said.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth before a lot worse than a drink explosion?" He looked at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.