[185] Fear in the Blood

"Headmaster Snape!"

Draco was completely unprepared. His eyes flew open — his Headmaster was right in front of him.

Snape's gaze swept over the composed Hall and the startled Draco. He settled on Hall.

"Headmaster, don't worry how we got here. If we don't hurry, Harry's in trouble."

Snape frowned at Harry's name. "What stupid thing has your third troll done now? Fell off a broomstick and can't rest?"

"Harry encountered Dementors in the Forbidden Forest."

Snape's sarcasm stopped cold. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"We can still make it." Hall grabbed Draco with one hand and Snape's robes with the other and started running.

Snape stumbled, then reacted. His black robes billowed like a bat spreading its wings. Students from all four houses kept their distance.

A twenty-minute journey took ten under Snape's pace.

"You two, don't follow me." Snape strode into the forest.

Draco blinked pitifully. "Are we really just waiting?"

"Getting lost isn't our fault, right?" Hall winked.

Draco nodded eagerly. Dementors were terrifying — but watching Potter make a fool of himself gave him strength.

"Stay close."

The Forbidden Forest was swarming with Dementors. Far more than at the stadium. The temperature dropped. Happy memories faded.

"Draco — Expecto Patronum!"

Draco raised his wand by instinct. Scared? Resentful? His mind was chaos.

He'd overheard the whispers. Dark wizards don't have Patronuses. He'd been terrified — did he not have one? Was he that kind of wizard?

He'd hidden it from everyone. Tormented himself daily. Especially after watching Harry summon his stag.

But this time — his deepest thought was clear. He wanted to protect those happy memories. His parents. Hall.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A plump, bright-eyed silver weasel leaped from his wand. It climbed all over him, circled him, nuzzled him with soft fur. Then it perched on his shoulder and let out a sharp cry at the Dementors.

Hall's giant winged tiger appeared beside them. The little weasel leaped onto the tiger's head and straightened up excitedly.

Draco felt warmth return to his body.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"A Patronus reflects the wizard's heart." Hall's voice was soft. "So you've been wanting to climb on my head for a long time?"

"Ahem. I can't control the weasel's behaviour."

"One hundred Galleons, and I won't argue."

"Your Patronus is practically a Niffler — as greedy for money as you are."

Hall sniffed. A Niffler's gold can still be poured out. His own greed was a different league entirely.

"Calling you trolls is too kind. Your heads are stuffed with reeds."

A silver doe appeared from afar, driving away the Dementors. Snape and Harry approached.

Hall whispered to Draco: "Follow my lead."

"Three. Two. One. Run."

They bolted.

Snape and Harry watched them flee. Snape frowned but didn't stop them.

Once safe, Hall led them back to the correct timeline. They bumped into Ron coming out of the Headmaster's office.

"Harry's fine now," Hall said quickly. Behind Ron stood McGonagall, stern-faced, and Dumbledore, faintly smiling. "Headmaster Snape already went."

"What? Snape? He wouldn't genuinely save Harry!"

"Mr Weasley." McGonagall's voice was sharp. "Snape is a responsible professor. Five points from Gryffindor for disrespect."

Ron shut his mouth.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Minerva, Severus is too strict. It's understandable the child is frightened. Let's go see them."

Ron sidled up to Hall. Draco stood on Hall's other side.

"Headmaster Snape won't cause us trouble?" Draco whispered. "We ran right in front of him."

"What's done is done. Even if we don't go now, we still face him in class. Between getting scolded today or your grades lowered tomorrow — pick."

Draco looked conflicted. Neither.

"Oh, don't forget the hundred Galleons you promised me."

Draco's thoughts stopped. "I know! Why don't you build a Galleon bed? Dragons aren't as greedy as you!"

He stormed off.

Ron nodded approvingly. "Malfoy's rich! Rake him over the coals!"

Dumbledore and the students met Snape and Harry. Snape's gaze landed directly on Hall and Draco.

"Headmaster Snape!" Hall gave a sweet smile, angling his face to highlight his red hair, making his expression look obedient.

Snape's venom stuck in his throat. "...Hmph."

Draco stared. Was their Headmaster really this easygoing?

"Draco Malfoy. My office. Seven o'clock tonight. Voluntary labour."

Draco pointed at himself, then at Hall. They were together — why only him?

"I'll join too," Hall stepped forward. "I'm good with potion ingredients."

"Mr Weasley, of course. No problem."

Hall mentally groaned. Snape was far from appeased. His nickname had degraded from "watermelon" to "troll" — what would it be next?

He'd rather be a delicious watermelon.

Seven o'clock. Neither Draco nor Hall dared to stand Snape up.

"Where's the Headmaster?" Draco stared at the closed door.

Hall grasped the small snake ornament on the doorknob. The bronze door swung open.

A scent of magical herbs and ink wafted out. Not unpleasant.

"Mr Malfoy, if you're talking about those hundred-Galleon incense bars, I don't think that's necessary. The scent of burning reeds is more than enough."

Hall smiled and waved. "Headmaster, we're here for volunteer work!"

Snape pointed to two buckets. One held slimy slugs. The other held plump toads.

"Process them. I need the potion for Madam Pomfrey tonight."

Draco chose the toads. Hall tackled the slugs.

"Be clean and decisive. The more you hesitate, the more disgusted you feel." Hall worked through the bucket while instructing Draco. "Keep the eyes intact."

By the time Hall finished the slugs, Draco was pale.

"Headmaster Snape, are you making a cold medicine? Let me help."

Before Snape could answer, Hall began selecting herbs. Snape leaned back and watched. He had confidence in Hall's potion skills — every step was perfect.

A row of cold potions appeared on the desk.

"Headmaster, why were there so many Dementors in the Forbidden Forest today?"

Snape, caught off guard, blurted, "Cornelius Fudge — " He stopped. His eyes widened.

Hall wasn't intimidated. He smiled.

Snape rubbed his forehead. Summoning the doe that morning, seeing Harry's stag — he couldn't describe his feelings. He felt an urge to explain.

"The effects of the Azkaban escape months ago are still lingering. The question is where those people went."

Snape wasn't asking Hall. He was asking himself. Those Death Eaters were madmen who would stop at nothing to resurrect the Dark Lord. But months without news — that wasn't right.

They must be plotting something.