Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 37: Slouching Towards Endgame

27 April 1993
Team Protector Meeting

Marcus Flint had been justifiably proud of his first attempt at the Patronus Charm. The glowing sphere of silvery light he'd created was the best of anyone in the group ... until Neville Longbottom had blown him out of the water.

"And the worst thing of all was – he didn't even gloat!" thought Flint to himself ruefully. Truthfully, Neville was humble, conscientious, and dedicated, and Flint wondered how the hell he'd gotten into Gryffindor. Obviously, Longbottom would never have been Slytherin material, but Flint wished that he'd ended up in Hufflepuff instead of with the Lions. They might well have become friends.

The Slytherin prefect shook his head and turned his attention away from the other side of the DADA classroom, where Longbottom was once again wowing everyone with his giant silvery fog bank. However, the boy was still unable to take the next step and form a true corporeal Patronus. Since that first night, Marcus had been practicing the Charm like mad and was bent on completely mastering it before the precocious Gryffindor.

"Keep your grades up and after you've passed your NEWTs come see me," Rufus Scrimgeour had said at Harry's birthday. "Your great-grandfather – Caractacus Flint, Old Ironside we used to call him – was a great mentor to me when I was just starting out. I should be honored to return the favor to his descendant."

That (so far) was the single happiest memory of Marcus Flint's young life. It was the moment he realized that everything Harry had told him about his great-grandfather was true ... and also the moment when he first truly believed in the possibility of a future for himself beyond following his father's footsteps into drunkenness, thuggery, and most likely an early grave. He focused his mind on what Scrimgeour had said and on what the Chief Auror's words might mean for him. The Auror Academy. An honorable and well-respected position in the Ministry. A chance to make Great-Grandpa Ironside, in whatever afterlife he might have found, feel proud of his family name again. All of these things Marcus Flint focused on as he pointed his wand at the floor.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A silvery fog flowed out of Flint's wand to cover an area only slightly smaller than Neville's. But Marcus wasn't satisfied. Instead, he pushed more and more of himself into the spell and focused harder on his memory of Scrimgeour's words. Beads of sweat popped on his forehead, and there was a soft crack as he grit his teeth hard enough to hurt. The fog expanded more and more before abruptly collapsing in on itself. And suddenly, to Marcus's amazement, there was a glowing silvery animal in front of him. Specifically, there was a medium-sized boar standing almost three-feet-tall at the shoulder and displaying sizeable tusks. Immediately, the others stopped what they were doing and stared in awe until Harry and Neville finally started clapping and whistling. The others quickly joined in.

"Congratulations, Mr. Flint!" exclaimed Lockhart who was nearly bursting with pride. "And a boar, I see. Quite interesting. A symbol of courage and fierceness in battle, you know. They say boars pulled the chariots of the Norse gods Freyr and Freya, while in Greek myth, they were terrible monsters sent by the gods against champions like Hercules and Atalanta and allow them to prove their bravery. The Muggle King Richard III had a boar as his standard," Lockhart stopped and thought, "although perhaps he's not the best example to follow, ha-Ha!"

"Uh-huh," Flint said absently while he continued to stare at the Patronus as if afraid it would disappear.

"Have you thought of a name for it?" Lockhart asked.

The young man blinked. "A name, sir?"

"It's something of a tradition among those of us who can cast the complete spell. If you successfully produce a corporeal Patronus, you give it a name. One that speaks to the emotions that allowed you to summon it into existence."