The following day
was, in comparison to the previous day, largely uneventful.
Nothing untoward occurred for the majority of its length, although
Sparrow did have a bit of trouble waking up in time to recite the
dawn incantation. Besides that hiccup, though, it was mostly a calm
day of study in the library with all her friends, making steady
progress with the locomotion spell. Even Miranda was now getting the
hang of precise wandwork, able to make a button follow the pattern a
five-pointed star on the table.
Were that all that
occurred on that day, Sparrow would have felt quite proud of herself
and everyone.
But that was not
all that occurred. For, at the end of the day, came an extra lesson.
Sparrow hadn’t
seen Professor Budge’s classroom in quite many weeks now. Nothing
of the room itself had changed – same posters as ever, same desk,
same decorations, same chairs. Yet something about it felt different,
now – now that Sparrow was in a kind of suspension that wouldn’t
be seeing her return to a classroom as an ordinary
essays-and-homework student ever again, whether it all went well or poorly. It felt
a little bit like returning to an old home just to say goodbye.
Here she was now,
standing before Professor Budge, fully inside the classroom, yet
feeling like she had one foot out the door. Here she was to prepare
the next tool that would help her and her friends move on. Not as an
ordinary child, sitting near anonymous in the rows and ranks of
fellow students, in the morning sunlight – but as a
not-entirely-voluntary assistant, standing in the harsh glare of the
overhead light, on a rainy evening of early spring.
As an adult, in a
way, with its attendant responsibilities – but not yet its attendant freedom. She could stand there
with her school bag slung over her shoulder and pretend she was a
full adult carrying all her job-related gear, but she had to admit,
she was still a minor. A miniscule minor, at that.
"I assume you
have long since studied the basic principles of the Patronus spell,"
said Budge. He strode from his desk at the dais to where Sparrow
stood in the center of the room. He shook his wand out of his sleeve
and twirled it in the air. Out of its tip sprang a great glowing
white spider. It was not larger than Sparrow’s hand – so not
large in an absolute sense, but certainly vast in comparison to any
arthropod Sparrow had ever seen. Its head had two
great eyes so large Sparrow thought she could practically see into
them.
It jumped onto
Budge’s shoulder. Sparrow shuddered. What manner of man was he,
after all, that his patronus reflected him so?
Budge raised his
eyebrows. "I see by your expression that you know how a Patronus
is meant to reflect a person. Yes?"
Sparrow nodded
mutely.
Budge glanced at
the spider on his shoulder. "And I can understand why you would
be perturbed. But consider my line of work, Sparrow. Before I became
your Defensive Arts teacher, I was engaged in a hunt for remaining
dark forces, in Britain and across the world –"
"And how well
did that even work?" said Sparrow. "I’ve got a report from a foreign exchange student that Wizarding
communications between here and the Pyrenees are down. Did you know
about that? Does McGonagall? Are you going to leave the work to me
and my friends?"
Budge looked taken
aback. "Such a rush of questions," he said. "What’s
got into you?"
"I just told
you –"
"Yes yes,"
said Budge, waving a hand, "I know that bit. If there is some
trouble between here and there, I can go and take care
of it, don’t worry about that. After
we deal with our more present and immediate problem."
Sparrow
did not feel particularly reassured, as Budge continued speaking.
"Where were we? Oh yes." He gestured to his
patronus. "Is not a jumping spider a noble hunter, to seek out
pests where they lurk, and dispatch them? It is from this
work that I take my pride, it is in this work that I find my happiest
memories – odd as that may seem. So, my Patronus takes a form that
reflects the shape of what builds my soul."
"Happy memories," said Sparrow. "Right, that’s the
basic idea for casting."
"Correct." Budge waved his wand, dismissing the spider.
"You reach into yourself for happy memories. Hard as those might
be to come by for most, these days."
"Oh
I’ve got a few." Sparrow thought
of all
the kisses she’d given and got
in recent weeks. "More than a few. I think I might have a hard
time choosing."
Budge chuckled. "Would that we all had such a problem. But tell
me, Sparrow, what do you think the Patronus truly embodies?"
"Happiness?" said Sparrow. "The happiest memory
distilled into magical form...am I right?"
"It is a little more complicated than that." Budge waved
his wand, pulling two chairs to him from where they were stacked
along the walls. He slid one to Sparrow and motioned for her to sit,
only sitting down once she did. "Little more complicated. Think
about what dementors do. They feed on happy memories, yes?
Bottomless, never sated. Misery embodied. Despair embodied. Fear
embodied. You meet a dementor and you feel like there’s no reason
to go on."
"A monster of depression," murmured Sparrow. She dropped
her school bag to the floor at her feet, and kicked idly at it.
"Well-stated.
Yes. Depression embodied. So then, what is it that can actually stand
against this soul-sucking fiend? What is the opposite
of depression?"
Sparrow shrugged. "Hope? Ugh, that sounds mawkish."
"And
yet," said Budge, "and yet, you are correct. Hope.
The belief that the world will
go on, and that you
will go on with it, as long as you are able. To be able to hold on to
that belief in the midst of despair – do you remember what I
speculated, that spellcasting has its emotional component? This is a
prime example. It is your belief in the truth of your own future,
infused with your own magic, that creates the Patronus. You are
thinking not only of your happiest moment, but remembering that such
moments are possible – and knowing they may come again, if you
would do the work to meet them."
Sparrow found herself fidgeting as she listened, swinging her feet
and flexing her fingers. "I get it. Can we get to practicing?"
"Patience,"
said Budge. "There is a good reason I am explaining all this to
you now." He flicked his wand, conjuring the glowing spider once
more. It perched on his knee as he continued. "I have been
considering the matter of emotional states in spellcasting, over the
course of this school year...and in applying that theory to the
Patronus charm, I have found casting it easier than before. I should
thank you for your part in supporting my theory. What I mean to say
is, typical instruction on this matter involves the how
but not the why. I
thought, perhaps, that if I explained the reasoning, you might find
casting the spell easier as well. And then we could safely say that
there is, in fact, an easier way
for everyone to make a Patronus."
"Huh," grunted Sparrow. "Wouldn’t you know it,
learning the theory behind a spell is supposed to make casting it
easier. That would have been nice to know before the Ministry swiped
all the books on theory."
Professor Budge had a dark look in his eyes. "They very likely did know."
"So I’ll make a hash of them when I meet them, said Sparrow.
"Anyway, can I try casting the Patronus now?"
"You know the incantation and the mental components," said
Budge. "Begin when you are ready."
Sparrow shook her
wand out of her sleeve and held it before her. She closed her eyes,
and breathed deeply in and out for a few moments. Just because it was
easy to understand the principles didn’t mean it was going to be
like casting the unlocking charm. And if Sparrow was going to he
delving into her memories…And spring was coming on, wasn’t it?
Time for certain things in the Forest to wake up, and
creep about. Towards her.
But at least Jill
would be waiting for her at the door nearly as soon as Sparrow
called. Jocasta, too, if she could be done practicing transfiguration
in time.
But there was no
one there at the door yet, and what might just lurk outside, just
might…
"Sparrow,"
said Budge, "you look as though you are accessing sad memories
instead of happy ones."
Sparrow opened her
eyes, as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. "I...I’m sorry.
I’ve got some shit in my past, you know, it’s hard to get over."
"I would not
have expected you to set out on your course of world-changing
daring-do if you were a perfectly whole and sane individual," said Budge. "The
well-adjusted rarely make such waves, the content even less often –
and rarely so brazenly, eh? A declaration to whole room full of gossipy portraits, I admire
your bravery."
Sparrow shrank in
her seat. "I feel kind of stupid about that now."
"Happiness,"
said Budge. "Focus on happiness."
Sparrow closed her
eyes and took a deep breath once more. Happiness. Happy memories.
Which one to choose, then? Her exhaustive snogging from last night?
Her little tryst with Jill in the alcove near the stairwell? The epic
conclusion to the Valentine’s Day Ball? The return of Jill to
intimate affections, in the departure from Hogsmeade? And yet – and
yet, though those were all lovely memories, they did not speak to
what actions truly built Sparrow’s character. If Sparrow really,
truly had to choose, it would be a memory that had her and Jill
acting as sword and shield. The two great warriors, in battle
formation as ever, protecting each other’s backs, amidst a tide of
enemies –
The nighttime
library adventure. It had everything, didn’t it. Partnership.
Battle. Reconciliation. Her first kiss.
Had her life even
been happy, until that
moment? Only in the moments when Sparrow and Jill were
together. The library, then,
that was the memory to draw on –
And yet –
If Sparrow had selected such a memory before this January she would
have felt it was indeed most fitting. It would have been fine, it
would have been fair.
She wouldn’t have been leaving
anyone out.
For
there was the other love of Sparrow’s life, the other partner in
crime, the one who, indeed, inspired her to a life of rebellion in
the first place – she who dared to be wicked, she who led Sparrow
to dare the same. What of Jocasta? Any number of her special private
lessons? Perhaps the In
Which Sparrow Jones Hatches A Nefarious Plot To Save Humanitylittle
discussion in the library alcove
that got the ball rolling?
The dance of December,
where the two had at last reconciled their souls? Or perhaps the
party after the great duel, where amidst loud acclimation,
Jill had presented Jocasta and Sparrow to each other formally.
Oh, kissing and
more kissing, it all blurred together didn’t it? What a wonderful
problem to have. And yet between the two girls, was it such intimacy
that spoke to the actions that built Sparrow’s character? Not
hardly! The partnership of Jocasta and Sparrow was not founded on
frequent trysts, but on the venture of transfiguration that few but
them would dare. The two were partners in adventure up the risky
mountain track. Defying fate, defying despair, defying authority,
hand in hand they made their way –
Hand in hand
Sparrow held onto the love of her life for dear life, as time after
time the girl would seemingly deliberately slip off the track,
pursued by screaming ghosts –
What then built
Sparrow’s character between her and Jocasta, truly?
That she would not
give up on her love, under any circumstances, no matter rage nor pain. She had chosen, amidst the crashing of
plaster and deafening wails of agony, to stand in Jocasta’s defense
whatever might come. She had stood firm against the worst Jocasta
could show her, and at last given the girl peace, for a time.
If Jocasta was the
only love of Sparrow’s life, it was this memory of standing against
the curse of her torment that Sparrow would have chosen as the most
proud memory to serve her spell.
Yet still, there
was Jill.
There was Jocasta.
There was Jill. There was Sparrow. What great and golden memory
contained not only the three of them, but a test of Sparrow’s
greatest skill?
The duel. The
grand duel, the Duel of Love, whereby she had brought the two of
her loves together, thus had brought the three of them together –
whereby each of them had demonstrated the best of their power and
skill, demonstrating talents none could have expected, at a level to
outmatch all but the oldest and most learned of students...and,
ultimately, to set the conditions for two of them to save the life of a third, as Jill and Jocasta surrendered to the
will of the other. It had been a true and final reconciliation
between those who had once been enemies. Sparrow had never been more
proud of the ones she loved, nor indeed of herself.
Indeed it had been
difficult to top that evening again, as subsequent demonstrations of
power had been matters of peril, thus not precisely happy memories.
But there was, in this memory, perhaps more pride than happiness.
Sparrow had felt rather foolish in the moment for venturing so much
of her magic at once. She had been unable to share in the roar of
acclimation, passing out all too quickly. Pride, yes, character, yes,
happiness, perhaps eighty percent.
There was, though,
the other golden memory of
the three of them, in the golden light of a bright morning. Wherein
the three of them had pledged
to each other their futures, shared forever.
How much did it count, though? It was not a moment of prowess like
the duel. It was, simply, a commitment to the future. Was that
enough?
But
Budge had said the Patronus, as an embodiment of hope, was the
magical manifestation of one’s belief in the future of one’s own
life, in the face of all
darkness and despair. And Sparrow was dead certain that no matter
what happened, Jocasta and Jill would be there for her, all their
long lives long, until the very moment they departed this world.
Whatever darkness the future might hold, those two would be her
shining lights within. And as long as she drew breath, she would be
theirs.
This was the true happiest of thoughts, then – one that not only
affirmed her pride, but lifted her spirits through all going forward.
Budge cleared his throat pointedly. "Have you
selected a decent memory?"
Sparrow
opened her eyes and sprang to her feet. She raised her wand to the
air and shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
All at once a great shining cloud of silver-white mist erupted from
the end of the wand, spreading in a great arc around and above
Sparrow and Professor Budge. Shadows of the chairs were thrown in
sharper relief against the light. Sparrow squinted, the cloud nearly
dazzling her sight.
"Miss Jones," said Budge, "you never cease to surprise
me. I was expecting a small wisp of cloud that you would have to
slowly exercise into a proper shape. This is...well. Characteristic,
I suppose. All power and no skill."
"Am I hearing a faint ‘congratulations’ in there?" said
Sparrow. "Wow, Sparrow, you’re so talented, how’d you do
that, you’re a marvel, fifty points to Hufflepuff. Oh thank
you, you’re too kind."
"This is what I get for pushing the idea of pride,"
grumbled Budge. "Alright alright, you can let the spell go."
Sparrow at last let her heart fade into exhausted calm. The cloud
disippated, and Sparrow lowered her wand. She turned to Budge. "Um,
if you were going to offer me a mark for this –"
"I’d give it an E for exceeding expectations," said
Budge. "Yes, I am impressed, but I know you too well to
be that surprised. Now you have to work on your specific area
of growth, which is control. You have different problems than
most Witches your age – too much strength out of too much pain,
instead of too little character out of too much ease. Your current
Patronus is unformed, and so it cannot really help you actively –
it’s just a shield with special effects."
Sparrow huffed. "I can keep practicing. Matter of fact, I can
practice right now." She raised her wand again and said,
"Expecto Patronum!" Once more the great cloud of silver
mist spread its arc over the two of them. Sparrow laughed. "Hot
dang, I’m getting the hang of this!"
"Still unformed," said Budge. "Take a seat and let me explain some other principles to you."
Sparrow rolled her eyes as she dismissed the spell. She sat down
heavily in her chair. She gave Budge a pointed look. "Alright.
Now what?"
"I would like you now to consider who you are," said
Budge.
"We were just going over what builds my soul –"
"Yes yes," said Budge, "clearly that worked. But what
I mean is – you are specifically someone who has mastered the art
of static defense. You are undoubtedly a wall the world cannot break.
But there is such a thing as active defense. The Patronus is
not a shield, Sparrow, it is an ally. It takes the form of a creature
so it can move and pursue."
"So...what?"
"So I think the way to get you to actually form the
patronus is to get you to open up your own methods of defense, by
appealing to your principles. Tell me, if someone is in trouble and
you’re too far away to cast a shield
charm –"
"Oh, I bet I could cast one across the whole ocean."
"Totally out of sight? But that raises the issue, what if you’re
in a situation where things block your line of sight? You need to be
able to send a spell that can make its way around things. You need to
be able to cast something that can do more than block. Sorry to say
it, Sparrow, but your shield charm can’t cover all bases. You need
something active."
Sparrow thought back to an evening in a courtyard, many months ago,
where Jill had made a similar argument. "Okay…but Jill’s the
active one. She’s the sword and I’m the shield. That’s how we
roll."
"Jill won’t always be
there."
"Bullshit," said Sparrow. "Balderdash. Poppycock.
Twaddle. I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Do you want to be able to have all tools necessary to save your
friends?" said Budge. "Then admit you need them. Please,
cast the Patronus spell with the idea of active defense in mind. Take
up your lover’s sword."
Sparrow concentrated on the memory of pledging her troth once again –
but this time, she added a bit of fantasy, with a big great gray wolf
standing in their defense, snarling at a floating dark phantom. She
raised her wand and said, "Expecto Patronum!"
This time the Patronus was not a misty cloud.
It was a humanoid shape, a tall humanoid, all features blank, just
hovering in the air – as if it was still waiting for all its
details to be filled in. The air all around it shimmered, as if
rising from a source of heat.
"Oh...kay," said Budge. "A humanoid Patronus.
That’s, uh...rare."
"You’ve seen something like this?" said Sparrow.
"Once," said Budge. "When I was traveling through
Tibet. This kind of Patronus...well, it might be awkward to explain.
I’ll wait until it’s fully-formed to offer full explanation, just
in case I’m wrong."
Sparrow narrowed her eyes at Budge. Making an incentive to get
better, huh? Aright. Sparrow dismissed the spell. Then she cast it
again, once more producing the featureless humanoid figure. And
again. And again.
No matter what she did, though, the features of the figure were not
filling in. "Dammit," she growled, "exercise isn’t
getting me anywhere. What am I missing?"
"You are missing patience," said Budge. "You’ve had
swifter progress with this spell than any I’ve ever seen, but that
doesn’t mean even you will get it in a day. Honestly, you should be
calling it an evening and a job well done right now. You’ve done
more than enough for today."
"I want to get it," said Sparrow. She idly kicked her feet
up, and encountered her school bag.
And then Sparrow had a wonderful,
awful idea.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the MSL textbook. Before
Budge could ask what was going on, Sparrow had opened the book to
near the middle, flipped through more pages and finally seen what she
was looking for – the sign for the Patronus. She thwapped the book
shut, stuffed it back in her back, rose to sit upright again, and
made the hand sign for the Patronus charm.
The entire room was filled with white light.
And Sparrow’s vision was darkness, as she passed out.