novelraw Chapter 93: Stag and Doe
Chapter 93: Stag and Doe
"We're out!" Hermione exclaimed softly as the moonlight shifted.
The boys looked toward the cave entrance at the sound. The group of people were emerging one by one from the hole between the tree roots, some nimbly, some clumsily, and they were walking together toward the castle.
A short while later, Peter Pettigrew's tearful pleas for mercy came from the grass.
Hermione's breathing became rapid.
"Professor Lupin is going to transform into a werewolf," she said, trembling.
She was starting to feel frightened again, Draco thought.
He suddenly had a strange thought: she might need some comfort, just like after facing the werewolf.
He wanted to reach out and embrace her, but her expression was as cold as ice.
His hand hesitated mid-air, unsure if the touch would offend her—after all, they'd just had a less than pleasant and unsuccessful conversation.
But her face had turned pale.
As he hesitated, she quickly turned around, glanced at him, and her lashes were faintly wet with panic.
He clenched his fists, trying to hold back, but he couldn't help himself.
He chose a roundabout approach, patting her on the shoulder.
She might shake him off—Draco thought with self-loathing.
But she didn't shake him off. She even moved slightly closer to him.
Although her back remained straight, her profile remained stubborn, and she wouldn't even spare him a glance.
Her gaze was fixed intently on the grass, no longer looking at him. But Draco sensed it; her trembling had lessened, and her breathing was less rapid.
Although she was angry with him, she was still willing to accept his comfort. The embers in Draco's heart were no longer so agonizing.
He gently patted her carefully, rhythmically, and cautiously, observing her and trying to discern more about her thoughts.
Was that door still open for him? He wasn't sure.
What was certain was that his heart, liver, spleen, and lungs finally stopped convulsing and churning. They survived.
She hadn't rejected him. Therefore, from beneath the ashes in his heart, a tender green sprout grew anew.
He stared at her motionless, focused profile, and as he heard the sound of tender buds sprouting in his heart, he suddenly felt the night breeze wasn't so cold after all.
Hermione was experiencing mixed feelings.
She felt like a broken magnet, its positive and negative poles constantly shifting.
She longed for him to be near her, yet resented him being near her.
Never mind. I'll reject him later. I'll just let him comfort me for now. As he gently patted her, she indulged in the irreplaceable sense of security he gave her, deceiving herself as she thought this.
He'd protected her before the werewolf, after all. That scene was too unforgettable to be erased from her mind immediately.
Hermione Granger, you shameless girl, she despised herself inwardly.
She wanted him to hold her, to hold her tightly.
But she couldn't say it directly. She was still angry with him!
Should she push him away now and make her stance clear? She wondered, confused.
Or should he hold her tightly in his arms, wrap her up close, and keep her far away from the terrifying werewolf?
It wasn't just a light pat, she thought with dissatisfaction.
Hermione was tormented by her own fickle thoughts, and in her annoyance, she couldn't help moving a little closer to him again.
For Draco, every time she got closer, he became increasingly unable to control himself.
He wanted to hold her. He wanted to comfort her. Her figure was slender, trembling in the night wind, making her appear somewhat fragile and pitiful.
But if he put his arm around her, would she get angry? He hesitated, feeling she was a difficult puzzle to solve.
"He's going to escape," Harry's voice suddenly rang out, breaking the atmosphere of their chaotic interaction.
Harry gritted his teeth, gripping his wand tightly, ready to attack at any moment.
In the moonlight, Draco saw Peter Pettigrew's cunning expression. Taking advantage of the chaos, he picked up Lupin's wand that had fallen to the ground, grinned maliciously, and said, "No one can catch me," before transforming into a large rat and darting into the nearby bushes.
The rat, feeling smug, ran straight toward the hole of the Whomping Willow.
Draco raised his wand, ready to attack once the rat disappeared from their sight; he knew that Harry and Hermione beside him were doing the same.
Surely one of the three of them would hit the target? He thought that even from the perspective of Muggle probability, which Hermione always liked to mention, it was foolproof.
Closer and closer, the rat scurried out of the group's sight and approached them.
Just then, under the full moon's glow, a ball of ginger flame leaped down from the tree, knocked the rat unconscious with a swipe of its paw, and bit off half of its head.
"Crookshanks—" Hermione exclaimed softly.
They stared at Crookshanks in astonishment.
He was calmly picking up the remains of the still-twitching rat—this was the end of the sinful and pitiful life of Peter Pettigrew.
It all happened so fast! They didn't even have time to stop it.
They could no longer get any useful information out of him, because the person who held the secret was no longer breathing.
The three people in the bushes stood frozen in place like three dumbfounded Nifflers, watching as Crookshanks swaggered away, carrying the dead rat in his mouth, and nimbly disappeared into a patch of bushes.
"Merlin," Draco said softly.
"Oh my god," Hermione exclaimed at the same time.
They stood side by side, utterly astonished.
No one had expected that Peter Pettigrew's life, which he'd prolonged by hiding for more than a decade, would ultimately come to an end with a sigh from onlookers.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, Harry suddenly snapped back to reality. He said urgently, "Stop sighing—we have to go! The werewolf will be here soon!"
"That's right!" Hermione exclaimed, snapping back to reality.
"Where to?" Draco asked.
"Hagrid's hut! Nobody's there!" Hermione said as she ran. "He's still searching for people in the castle!"
The three of them ran as fast as they could, until they entered Hagrid's empty hut.
"How did you know Hagrid wasn't here?" Draco asked her as he closed the door.
"Does someone have absolutely no memory? He told Harry about it when he was in the Hospital Wing," Hermione said haughtily, without looking at him.
"How could I possibly remember all that so clearly?" Draco said, somewhat astonished, looking at her with admiration. "How could someone have such a good memory that they can remember everything so clearly?"
Hermione was rather smug. Although she ignored him, she secretly smiled.
The only sound in the room was the hound Fang, barking incessantly. Harry took some rock cakes from a tin on the mantelpiece, trying to pacify the overexcited hound, while Draco leaned over the window and caught a glimpse of Professor Snape walking across the grounds.
In the moonlight, Professor Snape's face looked somewhat grim. He hurried toward the source of the wolf howl.
"Professor Snape—he tried to protect us," Hermione said, peering through the other end of the window. She'd also noticed the commotion outside. Her expression was complicated. "He's a responsible professor, although I still don't approve of his teaching methods and how he treats Gryffindor students..."
Draco's lips curled up slightly.
Hermione seemed to be in much better spirits, and without realizing it, she seemed willing to talk to him again.
Moreover, he was pleased that Hermione was willing to believe in Professor Snape's character as a Hogwarts teacher.
A moment later, another Draco came running frantically from the direction of the castle. He seemed to see something in the grounds, opened his arms, and embraced the ginger cat that had jumped into his lap.
So were the rat carcasses that Crookshanks had vomited up back then Peter Pettigrew?
Draco suddenly discovered an incredible secret.
And he really wanted to remind his past self not to touch Crookshanks's mouth.
He gazed at his other self, who'd followed Crookshanks into the distance, and once again felt a sense of awe for the order of time.
This completely confused him.
"Hermione, have I ever told you that you're amazing?" Draco said, completely convinced. "This Time-Turner only took me a short while to get confused, but you've been using it for a whole year."
Hermione finally turned to look at him. A faint smile played on her lips.
She seemed about to say something to Draco but was interrupted by Harry.
"We have to go now! To the lake!" Harry said gruffly. "My parents will be there in a little while."
"Wait a minute," Draco said, pointing to the Firebolt leaning against Hagrid's door—it seemed to have been brought by the first Harry ages ago, a time when Harry had almost forgotten about it.
"Take your Firebolt. There are too many dangers out there—werewolves, Dementors and the like," Draco finally came to his senses and said to Harry.
"And what about you?" Harry said, picking up his beloved broomstick and couldn't help asking.
Draco smiled at him and waved his wand toward the castle: "Accio Nimbus 2001!"
The broomstick was still on its way, but Draco believed it was making great effort to get here.
The three quickly ran from Hagrid's hut and peered across the lake at what seemed to be the sounds of werewolf and Black Dog fighting. They could vaguely make out a few figures on the high ground across the lake.
"That's us," Hermione whispered, shivering. "Harry's godfather is trying to protect us—he's fighting Professor Lupin."
Soon after, a Black Dog's pitiful howl came from the opposite bank.
"Sirius is rolling down the hill! The Dementors are coming!" Harry shouted, and he ran to the lake's edge to get a closer look.
"Let's follow him," Draco said to Hermione. She nodded and instinctively grabbed his sleeve—she'd forgotten she was angry with him again.
They stumbled along the uneven, leaf-strewn forest path, following Harry as he ran frantically, staring intently at the opposite bank. As they closed the distance, the full moon gradually came into view, and the figures on the high ground became clearer.
Now only a small figure remained there—another Hermione left alone.
Then another figure appeared—another Draco—who stood before her.
The werewolf was closing in on them.
It was a terrible, nightmarish scene. Draco stopped in his tracks and stared at the opposite bank.
That was a werewolf, you know.
This level of danger was a risk no Slytherin would be willing to take, a murky situation no one would want to wade into.
He still felt lingering fear, but he didn't regret it—as long as she was unharmed.
Besides, they were now standing safely on the opposite bank of the lake, far away from that danger.
A smile played on his lips as he looked at Hermione, who was perfectly fine beside him, and felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
Suddenly, she frowned, abruptly raised her hand to her mouth, and began howling like a wolf.
"What are you doing?" he asked in shock.
"Saving your life!" Hermione said, staring intently at the situation on the other side. She howled a few more times and said urgently, "You said in the library that howling can attract werewolves, right?"
The sound successfully startled the werewolf on the opposite bank, disrupting its rhythm.
The werewolf abandoned its attack and ran in another direction.
"Yes. Yes, thank you," Draco said. He couldn't suppress his amazement and suddenly realized who was behind the wolf howl that had suddenly rung out.
In the first timeline, he'd saved her; in the second timeline, she'd saved both of them in the first timeline.
What a bizarre paradox, yet it became perfectly reasonable at this moment.
He sighed for a few seconds.
Then he squinted, stared at the direction the werewolf was charging for a moment, and said with some panic, "But Hermione, the werewolf is coming for us now."
Merlin's beard.
The werewolf moved swiftly through the Forbidden Forest. It circled the lake, charging toward them at incredible speed—Draco could already hear the violent rustling of leaves not far away, the sound of the werewolf crashing through them.
"Oh, I didn't expect that," he said. Through the moonlight filtering through the leaves, he saw Hermione's pale face, her expression one of fear.
They exchanged a glance, then looked simultaneously at the trembling trees not far away, where they saw the eyes of the crazed, gleaming werewolf approaching them.
"What do we do?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling.
Just then, the distinctive whooshing sound of a broom pierced the tense atmosphere; the sound came from the direction of the castle—Nimbus 2001 had finally arrived. Draco thought at that moment that it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
"Get on quickly!" Draco said, grabbing the broomstick that was hovering beside him and letting the trembling Hermione climb on first. The werewolf was already close at hand, and he quickly climbed on behind her.
"Go!" he said loudly, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Just as the werewolf was about to pounce, the broomstick suddenly leaped up to the treetop, narrowly avoiding the werewolf's attack, and flew low over the Forbidden Forest through the dense foliage.
The werewolf was enraged. It didn't give up its pursuit. It stood up and ran, following their broomstick, preparing to try leaping and see if it could reach the hem of their robes.
"Draco, what do we do?" Hermione cried out in panic, trembling before him, her hands gripping the broom.
"We have to lure it away from here—Harry's still by the lake!" Draco's voice was as cold as the night wind. He suppressed his fear and looked down to check the werewolf's movements. "And those people! We can't let them run into the werewolf!"
"Yes!" Hermione cried out in the howling wind, her voice trembling. "But I can't! Draco, I can't fly—"
"You're a witch, Hermione! You even passed your flying exam! Where's your confidence? You learned from the best teachers!" Draco said, putting one arm around Hermione's waist and waving his wand with the other, casting a dozen spells at the werewolf.
Hermione was about to collapse mid-air.
She wasn't good at flying to begin with, and now there was someone else on the broom. The broom even seemed to be looking down on her, shaking inexplicably as if it were disrespecting her.
She was really afraid it would throw them both off.
"Don't be afraid—I'm holding you! Even if we fall, you won't get hurt!" Draco shouted from behind her, warming her cold neck.
Only then did she realize he was holding her tightly around the waist. His body completely covered her back. In fact, he was holding her entirely in his arms, tightly and completely.
The fact that his refreshing scent was overwhelming made it hard for her to breathe.
Surging emotions, an uncontrollable fondness, and memories she'd thought she'd sealed away all roared back to life, becoming an electric current coursing through her body.
And it had only been a short while since she'd decided to seal away these emotions!
"Draco! It won't obey me!" she said, trembling, shrinking uncomfortably in his arms, calling his name. His embrace made her feel both heartbroken and incredibly safe.
She remembered his comfort after she was Petrified, his protection of her on the snow outside the Shrieking Shack, and his way of shielding her tightly before the werewolf.
Oh Merlin, she still really liked him.
Perhaps she liked him more, she thought frantically, feeling like she was going to die.
"Hermione Granger, you need to focus! You need to control it, not be controlled by it!" he shouted from behind her. "Concentrate! I believe in you!"
His encouragement gave her a boost of confidence.
Yes, she needed to think about flying!
She finally remembered the flying skills he'd taught her, which he'd taught her step by step.
She took a deep breath, made up her mind, gripped the mahogany handle with both hands, gritted her teeth and squeezed the broomstick—to her surprise, the broom suddenly became extremely obedient—and flew in the opposite direction from the lake.
He was right; she needed to focus. She banished the jumble of emotions, thoughts, and memories from her mind and concentrated on flying toward the hippogriff territory.
He was holding her. Just as she'd expected, he was holding her tightly.
She felt both happy and sad, shy and helpless.
The werewolf was chasing them. Even though his scent was intoxicating, even though her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest, she paid no heed.
Focus! Flying was the only thing she needed to think about right now.
She stared intently ahead, hearing only Draco's calm voice casting spells behind her and the werewolf's furious howls rising from beneath their feet.
Ultimately, the method worked; they became easy targets, leading the enraged werewolf away from the lake.
Harry and the others were safe.
They were both safe now.
Under some kind of deliberate guidance, the werewolf beneath their feet wandered into the hippogriff territory and began fighting with those ferocious beasts, forgetting the presence of Hermione and Draco above them.
Draco, observing the commotion below, finally understood what had happened.
Hermione had done it deliberately. She'd already known this was the hippogriff territory.
Hippogriffs—these were among the few ferocious species tonight capable of protecting them from werewolves.
"Hermione, you're a genius!" Draco's clear voice called out excitedly behind her. "Now I can appreciate the beauty of hippogriffs!"
Hermione steadily controlled the broomstick before him, a subtle smile playing on her lips.
Suddenly, she realized she no longer disliked flying. She smiled, intending to turn back and tell Draco about it, but then she noticed a blinding white light in the distance, illuminating half of the abnormally dark sky.
"Draco, look!" she exclaimed.
"Someone is casting a Patronus Charm," Draco said, his voice tinged with panic. "There are Dementors there."
"We have to go check! Harry's over there—" Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly. "We have to go help him."
"All right," Draco sighed, hesitant, unsure if he could withstand the Dementors' onslaught—he still hadn't been able to conjure a complete Patronus.
"Draco, don't worry—I can conjure it," she said, sensing his hesitation and comforting him. "I will protect you."
"Yes, what would I do without you?" Draco said, his tone slightly exaggerated. He tried his best to appear nonchalant to hide his inner anxiety. "Let's go, let's go see."
"Yes, let's go see Harry's mum and dad, though I don't really believe it!" Hermione said, tucking her wand into her sleeve and cautiously turning the corner, preparing to speed up. "Watch out, don't fall off—I'm turning!"
As Harry Potter rushed to the lake, he happened to see Dementors flying by in dense swarms, like ravens.
He saw Sirius lying on the ground, silent; he saw another version of himself raise his wand, releasing a faint silver light.
It's almost here! He rushed into the bushes by the water, trying to get a better look, and anxiously peered out.
Dad and Mum might come at any time!
Where did those two deer—a stag and a doe—come from? He had to see for himself!
Come on! Harry thought excitedly.
However, no one came.
Another version of himself collapsed completely; a Dementor had already crouched down, removed its hood, and was about to devour Sirius's soul.
"Hurry up!" Harry thought anxiously.
Still no one came—Sirius was in grave danger.
In a flash, he suddenly understood—the person he'd seen might not be his father, but perhaps himself.
He leaped from the bushes, drew his wand, and roared, "Expecto Patronum!"
He would no longer hesitate, feeling he couldn't transform himself.
He would definitely conjure it, because he'd seen it before.
He'd already seen his parents' stag and doe, which had appeared in this place and at this time.
A dazzling animal emerged from the tip of his wand—a stag.
It sped past him silently, across the black lake; almost simultaneously, on the opposite shore, a shadowy figure raised a wand, and a doe as white as moonlight appeared.
The other Harry and the other Sirius were both safe.
The two deer unleashed tremendous power, charging from different directions, scattering the flock of Dementors that resembled ravens, and sending them flying into the dark sky.
This was the most spectacular scene Harry had ever seen tonight.
He strained to open his eyes, trying to see who was on the other side; however, the distance was too great, and he could only see the dark figure struggling and falling to the ground, motionless.
He was extremely worried, so he mounted his Firebolt and rushed over with a glimmer of hope—who could it be?
Perhaps it was his mother.
He rushed over, bent down, and finally, by the moonlight, saw the face of the shadowy figure—a face he could never have imagined, a pale face with a hooked nose, the face of the unconscious Severus Snape.
How could it be him?
Snape—how could he conjure his mother's Patronus? Harry was utterly shocked by this incredible situation.
There were some rustling sounds coming from the hillside, the intermittent voices of a boy and a girl—getting closer and closer—they seemed to be coming down.
Harry hurriedly rode the Firebolt back to the other side, as if some ferocious beast was behind him.
He sat behind the bushes, lost in thought. When he came to his senses, Draco and Hermione, holding broomsticks, were already standing before him.
The people by the lake had all vanished. They could vaguely see some dark figures slowly floating toward the castle—it was another group of people using Levitation Charms.
"Do you see clearly? Your mum and dad—" Hermione said, walking over to Harry and looking him up and down to see if he was hurt, but found only a blank expression on his face.
"Harry, we saw the Patronus's light in the distance—a very powerful Patronus's light. Who conjured it?" Draco asked.
Harry said, his voice trembling, "Hermione is right, but not entirely. The stag—it was something I created myself—not the me of that time, but the me of now."
"You shouldn't have—" Hermione asked nervously. "Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so," Harry said, his face dull.
"Oh, Harry, you summoned your Patronus and chased away so many Dementors!" Hermione exclaimed with relief and enthusiasm. "That's an amazing achievement! So why are you so dejected?"
"It was me from beginning to end—it wasn't my dad!" Harry said bitterly, dejectedly, and sorrowfully, bowing his head deeply. "I thought my mum and dad saved me, I thought they'd appeared tonight—"
"Oh, Harry..." Hermione's enthusiastic tone vanished immediately.
Her expression turned sad, and she whispered, "Your mum and dad—they—would be so proud of you."
"Proud? How could they be proud!" Harry said bitterly. "They're dead! They can never be again! It was all my imagination, my wishful thinking! I was such a fool... the biggest fool in the world... How could they possibly be here?"
He buried his face in his hands and made a whimpering sound like a wounded animal.
Hermione stood there hesitantly, her eyes filled with pity, unsure how to comfort the poor boy.
Draco stared at Harry's huddled figure, filled with anguish, and sighed softly.
He asked softly, "Harry, you created your Patronus tonight because you were thinking of your mum and dad, didn't you?"
Harry gave a soft "mm," looked up, and gazed at him with eyes brimming with tears.
"Harry, listen to me—they did appear—in your mind—in your memory—at the moment you cast the spell—otherwise you wouldn't have been able to conjure your Patronus."
Draco whispered, "Of course they were here. They never left. Their talents flow in your blood, their image lives in your heart. You are the continuation of their lives. They will be proud of you, proud of your extraordinary talents; they will even thank you—thank you for saving their son."
Harry stared at him blankly, tears wetting his cheeks.
"They have already—" he said in a hoarse voice.
"Harry, as long as you live, they live—do you understand?" Draco said with a deep gaze.
His mother, Narcissa, had said similar things to him before.
At that time, he couldn't yet grasp the profound meaning of these words.
At that time, he'd been too naive, too ignorant, and too rebellious, single-mindedly devoted to saving his father and sacrificing himself for the dignity and honor of his family.
He vividly remembered his mother pleading with him, disregarding her own image, saying, "Draco, please, don't go and die... You are our precious child, our life... We don't need you to do anything... As long as you live, we just want you to live..."
"I will not watch my father die in Azkaban! I want him to live—I want to save his life!" the young boy had said stubbornly.
"Your father would rather die in Azkaban than have you die... If you die, what difference is there between us and death?" Narcissa had gasped, choking back tears, shrinking back from the sounds of Death Eaters next door. The noble facade she maintained before others crumbled, revealing a rare vulnerability. "Draco, if one day death comes upon me, I don't need you to do anything for me, I don't need you to save me, and I don't need you to avenge me... Promise me, don't go and die... As long as you live, we live..."
"Mum, I can't promise you—" Draco's voice had been soft, trembling, and persistent. "You'll be all right. Dad will be all right too."
Tears had streamed down the mother's face as she desperately pleaded with him, begging her beloved son, "Please, don't do anything foolish, Draco, don't—"
"What's with that doe?" Hermione's voice snapped Draco from his reverie.
Harry's voice seemed stuck in his throat. "It was Snape... the doe was conjured by Snape!"
Draco and Hermione quickly exchanged glances.
They both recalled what Slughorn had once said: "Lily... she can be considered Severus's childhood sweetheart."
A Patronus was a symbol of a person's inner self, and it changed accordingly when a person's mind changed.
It was impossible to transform your Patronus into the likeness of someone else if you didn't have a deep and lasting love in your heart.
All of this was so bizarre and absurd, yet so real and simple.
The doe was released by Professor Snape; it was his Patronus, his heart, and the most direct proof that he still deeply loved Lily Evans.