mirrorball

chapter thirty

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry's clear despair over Hagrid and Fred, which was like a promise of a feast. . . . 

"Harry, we've got to stop them." said Clara, but as the words left her mouth, she could sense how lifeless they sounded. If Harry's anguish was the dementor's feast, Clara's was sure to be a very hefty dessert.

Clara saw Ron's silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; she saw Hermione's otter twist in midair and fade, and her own wand trembled in her hand. She couldn't do this, she reached for Harry's hand but her hand only grasped the night's cold air. Clara began to welcome the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling. . . . Patronuses had never been her strong suit anyway. She was simply a failure, now was as good a time as any to prove that to everyone around her.

And then a silver hare, a boar, and fox soared past Harry, Clara, Ron, and Hermione's heads: the dementors fell back before the creatures' approach. Three more people had arrived out of the darkness to stand beside them, their wands outstretched, continuing to cast Patronuses: Luna, Ernie, and Seamus. 

"That's right," said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the D.A., "That's right, Harry . . . come on, think of something happy. . . ." 

"Something happy?" he said, his voice cracking. Clara turned to see her best friend smiling encouragingly at her.

"We're all still here," she whispered, taking Clara's hand. "we're still fighting. Come on, now. . . ." 

There was a silver spark, then a wavering light, and then the stag burst from the end of Harry's wand. It cantered forward, and now the dementors scattered in earnest, and immediately the night was mild again, but the sounds of the surrounding battle were loud in his ears. Luna's arms wrapped around Clara's stone-cold body as the silence overtook them.

"Can't thank you enough," said Ron, turning to Luna, Ernie, and Seamus "you just saved-" With a roar and an earth-quaking tremor, another giant came lurching out of the darkness from the direction of the forest, brandishing a club taller than any of them. 

"RUN!" Harry shouted for the thousandth time that night, but the others needed no telling; They all scattered, and not a second too soon, for the next moment the creature's vast foot had fallen exactly where they had been standing. Clara looked round: Ron and Hermione were following her, and Harry was mere feet away, but the other three had vanished back into the battle. 

"Let's get out of range!" yelled Ron as the giant swung its club again and its bellows echoed through the night, across the grounds where bursts of red and green light continued to illuminate the darkness. 

"The Whomping Willow," said Harry, "go!"

The group ran. Fast. Clara didn't think her legs had ever moved so quickly underneath her and within minutes they had arrived at the Whomping Willow, Harry in front and Clara right behind him. Ron and Hermione caught up, Hermione so out of breath that she could not speak. 

"How—how're we going to get in?" panted Ron. "I can— see the place—if we just had—Crookshanks again— " 

"Crookshanks?" wheezed Hermione, bent double, clutching her chest. "Are you a wizard, or what?" 

"Oh— right—yeah— " Ron looked around, then directed his wand at a twig on the ground and said "Wingardium Leviosa!" The twig flew up from the ground, spun through the air as if caught by a gust of wind, then zoomed directly at the trunk through the Willow's ominously swaying branches. It jabbed at a place near the roots, and at once, the writhing tree became still.