Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

They were too late for the Quidditch practice that day, but most of Sunday was spent honing their skills. Ron now had more confidence in his abilities as Keeper, although the others deliberately kept him under pressure during the practices. At the end of a long practice, Katie looked reasonably satisfied.

“You’re all a bit rusty after the holidays,” she said, “but I suppose it’ll do.”

In the evening, their homework finished, they walked across the fields to call on Hagrid. They heard Fang barking as they knocked on the door, and Hagrid’s gruff voice telling the dog to hush.

“So,” he asked, once they were inside and settled down, “how did the funeral go?”

Ron pulled a face. “How do funerals ever go? But Neville took it well – and his father seems to be recovering a bit. He spoke to Neville – for the first time ever, apparently.”

“Oh? That’s good then. Frank and Alice – I remember them. Not that I knew them well, mind. But it’s a shame. And after You Know How had vanished too. Seems daft, somehow.” They nodded in agreement. “What other news?” he asked.

They remembered their conversation with Arbuthnot, but also remembered their promise to Mr Weasley.

“Nothing much,” lied Ron cheerfully.

“Funny, isn’t it? Him still out there. Makes you wonder what’s he plotting next.”

“Hagrid, don’t,” said Hermione.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s bad enough knowing he’s still there, without having to think about what he’s up to next. We’ll find out sooner or later.”

“ ’Spect so. Now, as I mentioned to you the other day, Grawp …”

“Not tonight, Hagrid. Next weekend, maybe.”

“Oh. All righ’ then. No, what I was going to say was that he’s been telling me of things in the Forest.”

“Hagrid, there’re lots of things in the Forest.”

“Yeah, I know that. But apparently there’s summat new. Upsettin’ the beasts in there.”

“Oh?” Harry’s interest was awakened. “What sort of thing?”

“Don’t rightly know. I mean, Grawp, he tells me things, but as I said, he’s not what you call eloquent.”

“Has he seen them?”

“No. But he does seem to be able to talk to quite a few of the creatures in some sort of way, and they’re telling him things.”

“What sort of things?”

“All a bit vague, that’s the snag. Anyway, I’ve asked him to find out what he can.”

“Hmm.” Harry didn’t put an awful lot of faith in that. As Hagrid said, Grawp was not the most coherent of creatures, and to relay what he knew through Hagrid himself ….

“Anyway, how did the Quidditch practice go?”

The week shot past without giving them chance to catch their breath. Kingsley had been teaching them more about the Patronus charm, making Harry realise that there was a great deal more to the charm than just conjuring up a protector. His mind was opening to up to all the other ways a Patronus could help and guide you. Professor Wynne had almost convinced even Ron that Intelligent Magical Creatures was a worthwhile course to be doing. There was of course Potions, and in his dungeon Snape was as unpleasant as ever. Last lesson Neville had almost ruined his potion before Hermione hissed at him to put in the ground up root of asphodel. Snape had examined both their cauldrons very carefully when he came round, and deducted five points from Hermione on suspicion alone. Since she had in fact helped Neville, she couldn’t really complain, although the others felt it was still unfair since she hadn’t actually been caught.

To cheer Neville up – he was probably more upset about the five points than the rest of them put together – they took him along to see Hagrid that evening. At last Hagrid had begun to realise that the likes of Blast Ended Screwts were not the best of beasts to introduce to his forms, and he had settled for creatures that were – relatively – harmless. They found him coming back from the edge of the Forest.

“Just been gathering a few more Nifflers for the Fifth Years,” he told them. “I s’pose you want a cup of tea then?”

“Yes,” said Ron. “Just tea would be fine.”

Hagrid gave him a suspicious look. “Yer don’t like my cakes then?”

“Oh, it’s not that,” lied Ron. “Just that we had a jolly good lunch.”

“Hmph.”

“How’s Grawp?” asked Hermione, changing the subject.

Hagrid brightened up. “Oh, jus’ fine. Err … yer don’ want ter …?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?”

Hermione nodded. “We said we would.”

Harry looked at her. What was she getting herself into? And him and Ron too.

Neville was looking puzzled. “Grawp?” he asked.

“Hagrid’s brother,” explained Hermione.

“Oh.” His face cleared. “Umm … can I come too?”

“Course ye can,” said Hagrid expansively.

Harry supposed there’d be strength in numbers.

And so after lunch the next day the four of them set out, feeling more than a little bit nervous. Hagrid was waiting for them by the edge of the Forest, crossbow in hand. Neville looked rather alarmed at this.

Hagrid patted the crossbow. “Not because of Grawp. Cos we’re going into the Forest, see.”

Neville’s face cleared - a little.

“Told him ye were coming,” Hagrid went on. “Prepared the way, like.”

They all nodded, still somewhat apprehensive. Going into the Forest was bad enough; meeting Grawp again just added that little extra frisson.

Although the afternoon was bright enough, it was darker and gloomier among the trees. Here and there sunlight shone into clearings, but that was the exception. Hagrid led the way, with the four students straggling in his wake. After about twenty minutes Hagrid stopped and held up his hand: in front of them was a larger clearing than they had seen so far.

“Quiet now,” he whispered to them.

They walked slowly closer, making as little noise as they could. Lying in the dappled sunlight they could see a shape: Grawp sleeping.

“You lot stay here,” whispered Hagrid. They needed little encouragement to hang back as Hagrid slowly stepped into the clearing, then nudged his brother’s shoulder. There was an eruption they recognised as a snort, then Grawp began to stir, as Hagrid took a few steps back.

“A’right, then, Grawp?” shouted Hagrid cheerfully.

The figure stirred and lurched: Grawp was sitting up.

“Hagri’,” they heard.

“That’s right. How are you?”

The figure muttered – or rather boomed – something in reply.

“Tha’s good,” said Hagrid. “Now, Grawp, I’ve brought some people to see you. But be gentle with them. OK?”

Another rumble. Grawp’s head turned. Hagrid gave them a wave. Slowly, apprehensively, they stepped out from the trees into the clearing. The large blue eyes blinked, focussed on them.

“Now then, Grawp,” said Hagrid. Harry noticed he seemed to be much more confident when he was dealing with him. “This here is Harry” – pointing at him – “And Ron, and Hermione, and Neville.”

Grawp slowly surveyed each of them in term, and then concentrated on Hermione.

“Hermy,” he rumbled.

“That’s right, Grawp, Hermione.”

Hermione looked anxious, but stayed where she was.

Feeling distinctly apprehensive, but wishing to divert Grawp’s attention, Harry stepped forward a pace.

“Hagrid says you’ve seen things in the Forest. Nasty things,” he said, slowly and carefully.

Grawp blinked again, then nodded. “Not seen them,” he rumbled.

“What then?”

“Felt them.”

“Oh? How?”

Grawp suddenly shivered, and the ground shook slightly. “Cold,” he said slowly. “Cold. Nasty.”

Harry exchanged startled looks with the others. “Cold? And feeling sad?”

Grawp shivered again. “Cold,” he repeated. “And feeling – horrible.”

“Does this sound like what I think it sounds like?” Harry said to the others, quietly.

“Dementors?” replied Hermione.

“Yeah.” He raised his voice again. “Where in the Forest were they, Grawp?”

Another blink. “Different places. But Grawp feels them. Cold, horrible.”

“Sound like Dementors to you, Hagrid?”

“Yeah, mebbe. But there’re lots of odd beasts in the Forest.”

Harry took another step forward and sat down on an old tree stump. Slowly the others followed him. Talking to Grawp was a slow and painful business, but Harry reckoned it was worth spending some time getting to know him. Someone who could roam the Forest whenever he wanted could be quite useful.

Eventually Harry stood up, as did the others, then with a lumbering, swaying motion, so did Grawp. Harry could sense the sudden apprehension among the others. But Grawp stayed where he was, looking at the four students.

Harry raised a hand in farewell. “Thank you, Grawp. We’ll come back and see you again.”

Grawp nodded. “Grawp likes you.”

“Thank you. We like you too.”

Hagrid took his cue from Harry. “Right then, Grawp, we’ll be off. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Grawp looked at him. “Hagrid want Grawp to find the creatures in the Forest?”

“Aye, well, mebbe. You be careful, right? Don’t be gettin’ too close.”

Grawp nodded.

Hagrid turned to the others. “Come on, it’s gettin’ late.”

And he was right: although it was still a couple of hours to sunset, the sun was low in the sky, and shadows in the Forest were beginning to lengthen. They followed Hagrid’s huge figure along the paths: for someone so large, he could move very quietly at times.

Then Neville gave a cry, and turned off the path, crouching down near the base of an old oak tree.

“Boletus mirabile!” he cried.

The others stopped. “Come on, Neville, we’d best be getting back,” said Hagrid, a little impatiently.

But Neville was oblivious; he knelt down carefully, and began brushing foliage aside.

“What is it, Neville?” asked Hermione.

“Boletus mirabile,” he repeated. Ron looked at Harry, then lifted his eyes skyward. “Wow. It’s really rare. And very, very useful.”

Hagrid stood on the path, obviously now very impatient. “Never mind that now, Neville. Come on.”

Neville didn’t want to move, but he turned and looked up at Hagrid. “Can we come back tomorrow? And would you remember this place again?”

Hagrid glanced round. “That’d be no problem. Is it important?”

“Yes, Hagrid. Really, really important.”

Harry didn’t see what was so important about a bunch of toadstools. They looked rather nasty, with slimy tops, and a rather deformed, almost grotesque, shape.

“Yeah, I’ll bring you tomorrow. Only I’d like to be out of the Forest before it gets any darker.”

Reluctantly Neville got to his feet. “If you’re sure you can bring me back here again …”

“Course I’m sure. Come on, now.”

They began walking again.

“What are they, Neville?” Harry asked.

“They’re a really rare kind of fungi. And they can be used for all sorts of potions, including …” He broke off for a moment. “I must tell Professor Sprout about it when we get back this evening.”

Harry had the feeling that there was more to this than was apparent, but didn’t want to question Neville further. They stopped by Hagrid’s house as they came out of the Forest.

“It’s OK about tomorrow?” asked Neville anxiously.

“Course it is. Told you that, didn’t I? And thank you all for takin’ the time to talk to Grawp.”

“That’s all right, Hagrid,” Hermione told him.

“Next weekend, then? For another chat with him?”

They all nodded.

“And Hagrid,” Harry added, “if Grawp finds out anything else about whatever’s in the Forest, you’ll let us know?”

“Yeah. Don’ worry.”

As soon as they got back to the castle, Neville disappeared in search of Professor Sprout. Since there was another hour to go before supper, the others made their way back to Gryffindor tower.

“I don’t like what we heard today,” said Hermione, as they flopped down in armchairs. “Do you think there could be Dementors in the Forest?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? And why would they be there?”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Hermione!” said Ron warningly.

“Well, it is, isn’t it? Why would there be Dementors round Hogwarts? Because they’re after Harry.”

“I’ve coped with Dementors before,” said Harry mildly.

“We know that. But it’s almost certainly not just Dementors. The Dementors would be just part of some larger scheme.”

Harry thought about this. “You’re probably right. But what do we do?”

“First of all, tell Kingsley. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it?”

“There’s a snag to that,” said Ron, practically. “It’s the weekend, and Kingsley is only here Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”

“Well, we tell him first thing on Monday.”

“We’ve no proof,” Harry remarked.

“No, but it might be worth some Aurors doing a search of the Forest.”

As usual, Hermione was right. They’d better tell Kingsley as soon as they could. Voldemort might not be around – or so Harry’s scar was telling him – but that didn’t mean other Dark Forces weren’t.

“Come on,” said Ron, standing up. “Suppertime.”

They walked down to the Great Hall in company with some of the other Sixth Years. When they sat down, Harry noticed Neville in animated conversation with Dean. Near the end of the meal, Neville stood up and came over to Harry and Hermione.

“Professor Sprout says the Boletus mirabile will make a really good practical project for Dean and me. She’s going to come with us tomorrow afternoon to give and get a specimen to grow in the greenhouses.”

“That’s good,” said Harry automatically. Then: “Neville?”

“Yes?”

“You seem very keen on this stuff. What’s so special about it?”

Neville suddenly shuffled his feet and looked down. He blinked once or twice, then looked back to Harry. “Well, it’s true that’s it’s rare, and it really would make a good NEWT project, but the potion it can make – well, Travavitch says it can make a potion which, well, might help my Dad.”

“Travavitch?”

“The Russian healer we went to in the summer.”

“Ah.” A lot of things became clearer to Harry. “Neville …” he said awkwardly …

“Yeah, I know. Don’t build your hopes up. But it’s worth a try.”

“What’s the potion?” asked Hermione.

“Seneticus. It’s really for old people who’re losing their memory, but Travavitch thinks it might help Dad.”

“Is it difficult to make?” she asked.

Neville screwed up his face. “Not that difficult. At least, not if Snape …” his voice trailed off.

“It’s worth asking,” she said. “And if not, if I can be of any help … “

“Thanks, Hermione.” He gave a rare smile. “We’ve got to grow the stuff first.”

“Sure. Well, best of luck with the expedition tomorrow. And be careful in the Forest.”

“Hagrid’s coming, to help us find it again. And Professor Sprout will be with us too, so we should be okay.”

“Fair enough.”

Were there really Dementors in the Forest? The only evidence was that of Grawp, and even then he hadn’t seen them. Just felt a feeling that might be caused by Dementors – or something completely different. Harry shrugged. They’d tell Kingsley on Monday, and let him take things from there.

Sunday was more Quidditch practice, with their first match a fortnight away. This would be against Hufflepuff, and as Katie rather cynically remarked, it would make a good warm up. “But don’t take them too casually,” she warned. “Even Hufflepuff can play well on a good day.”

Thankfully Katie didn’t go in for the epic talks that Oliver Wood had been prone to: she preferred to spend the time practicing goal shots or bashing bludgers. As Seeker, there was often little for Harry to do during practices. As he soared up into the sky, trying out a few barrel rolls for good measure, he saw a little party making their way across to Hagrid’s house: Professor Sprout, Neville, and Dean.

Once Katie had got them out there she worked them hard. Even Harry was roped in to hurl Quaffles towards Ron as he defended the goal. But after two hours, she called a halt, and Harry began descending in lazy circles down to the ground.

Which is when he saw the shower of sparks from the edge of the Forest.

He paused in midair, and saw another shower of sparks. He yelled at the rest of the team to follow, and pointed the Firebolt down at the ground. He alighted by the edge of the Forest, to see Neville sprawled on the ground. His face was white, and he was panting.

“Harry,” he gasped. “Grawp was right – there were Dementors!”

“Where?”

Neville pointed back. “When the boletus mirabile were. We felt them first, and tried to fight them off. But there were too many.”

“Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “We got separated.”

Harry turned to Seamus, now one of the Beaters in the absence of the Weasley twins.

“Go to the castle now! Get McGonagall and Dumbledore. Tell them that there’re Dementors in the Forest. And Dean, Hagrid, and Professor Sprout are still in there.”

Seamus looked at him, his eyes wide, then without another word, mounted his broom and shot off.

Neville was on his feet now, peering into the Forest. “Should we …?”

“No!” said Harry. He remembered Hermione’s words. What else would be lurking in there?

Then they heard crashing sounds through the undergrowth from nearby. Someone else was coming out of the Forest. Harry started to run over.

“Harry,” he heard Ron yell. “It might be more Dementors!”

But he knew it wasn’t – he couldn’t feel any trace of their presence. And out from the trees staggered Professor Sprout, her clothes ripped, her hair wildly tangled.

“Dementors!” she gasped, as she saw Harry.

“We know. Neville’s here. We’ve sent up to the castle for McGonagall and Dumbledore.”

“Neville? What about Dean? And Hagrid?”

“Not here yet,” said Harry. “I’m sure they will be in a moment.”

Professor Sprout turned and faced the Forest. “We ought to go back for them.”

“Not yet,” said Harry firmly. “Wait for help.”

She looked at him. “Perhaps you’re right.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “It was horrible. All those … things.” She paused. “Neville produced a really good Patronus, but there were too many of them. I passed out – and the others had gone when I came round.”

Not only were McGonagall and Dumbledore hastening down, but also half the faculty seemed to be following them, wands at the ready. McGonagall stopped by Neville, but Dumbledore came over to Harry and Professor Sprout. He was grim and out of breath. “Dementors in the Forest?”

“That’s right,” said Sprout, and began telling her story again. Dumbledore listened carefully, then, with a powerful voice, summoned everyone to him.

“Professor McGonagall will now take all the students back to the castle. She and Professor Weasley will assemble the school in the Great Hall. No one is to leave the Hall until I return.”

He turned to Professor Sprout. “We are going to need you to show us where the attack took place.”

“Of course.” She seemed calmer now.

“Harry?”

“Sir?”

“I want you to go with the Quidditch team and Neville back to the school. When you get to the castle, you and Ron are to take Neville to Madam Pomfrey, then report to Professor McGonagall in the Great Hall. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The blue eyes bore into his. “And nothing else. Promise me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then off you go.”

As Harry and the others set off, he saw Dumbledore organising parties to set off into the Forest. Percy looked distinctly disgruntled at having to go back to the castle.

“Are you OK?” he asked Neville as they set off.

Neville nodded. “Yeah,” he said in a sombre tone. “But what about Dean? And Hagrid?”

“They’re going into the Forest now. If anyone can find them, Dumbledore can.”

“I suppose.”

Ron fell in on the other side of Neville. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reassured him.

“It was my idea to go in there,” Neville said miserably.

“But you were with Hagrid and Professor Sprout.”

“Even so.”

Harry thought it wasn’t worth trying any further to persuade Neville: the guilt was still going to be there. In front of them he could see Percy and Professor McGonagall entering the castle: Katie had been sent on ahead to round up all the Gryffindors.

Madam Pomfrey tutted at the sight of Neville, gave him some chocolate, and put him straight to bed. But before they left, Neville asked Harry: “You’ll tell me as soon as they’re found?”

“Of course,” said Harry.

“Dementors,” said Madam Pomfrey as she escorted them out. “We should never have taken up with them in the first place!”

And Harry couldn’t help but agree with her.