WHO: Alicia Spinnet and Miles Bletchley WHAT: Alicia attempts to teach Miles the Patronus spell, is having trouble casting her own. WHERE: Just outside the village. WHEN: Friday evening RATING: Fairly tame. STATUS: Complete.
Alicia sat on a stump outside the village and tried to catalog the reasons to be happy. She had a job that would challenge her and teach her some valuable future skills. She was surrounded by good people here - interesting people who she would never have met back in the real world. Voldemort had been vanquished; the Death Eater population in the village were either reformed or contained. She had a nice flatmate and seemed to be settling in, finally -
But for every positive, she could poke at its underbelly and find a negative. She may have met Merlin and the young Minerva McGonagall, sure, but she wouldn’t be able to tell any of her friends and family back home about it. Katie, Angelina and Lee had all been and gone. She was happy for them, she wouldn’t wish this isolation from the world you know upon anyone, but they wouldn’t remember her. And while that was better for them, it was worse for her. There was another Alicia, an Alicia who still had a job at Gringotts and a room in a granny’s flat and possibly even a boyfriend by now, and they would only ever know that Alicia and not the one in the village.
I’m making the best of a bad situation, she reminded herself. No - not a bad situation exactly. Just a rather strange one.
She prodded at the dirt with the toe of her boot and waited for Miles to arrive.
Miles headed to the meeting point, hoping that Tibbles would have enough to keep himself entertained in his absence. It’s not that he worried about leaving the gnome alone (he could look after himself, after all), but his worry over what might happen if Higgs was in a bad mood that made him worried.
Well, what do you know, he thought to himself. He was getting attached to a pet. He was growing up, it seemed.
As soon as he spotted Alicia sitting on a stump, he put his hands in his pockets and make sure he gave her his most devious smile. They were getting along well at that point, but it wouldn’t be much fun if he didn’t look like he was up to something.
“Spinny,” he said, still smiling.
“Your Highness,” Alicia retorted with a smile of her own, giving him a slight nod. He was the only one in the Village who called her anything other than ‘Alicia’ or ‘Spinnet,’ and while it had annoyed her at first, she found that she no longer minded it. The twins had called the members of their group all sorts back in the day, and it was kind of comforting that there was someone here who had a nickname for her.
“I brought tea,” she added, giving the jar at her feet the slightest of nudges. “Shall we, then?”
“Whenever you’re ready, m’lady,” he teased. He knew he only had himself to blame for being called “Your Highness”, so rather than being annoyed like others would he decided to milk it for all it’s worth. His strategy in life was to laugh at everything and everyone (unless it was dangerous to do so, of course), and himself most of all. It was surprising to see Alicia going along with the joke in a way that sounded just as amused as his own but, in spite of his tendency to enjoy annoying people with his antics, it was actually a pleasing experience rather than disappointing.
“Is the tea part of the practice, or just a bonus?” he asked.
“It’s a bonus,” Alicia confirmed, bending down to pluck up the jar (she had charmed the outsides so that it wasn’t burning to the touch). “Although this spell is easier when you’re in a good mood, and tea is universally considered to be a mood booster, so it wouldn’t hurt either way.”
“I’m not sure what you already know about the Patronus charm,” she continued as they walked, “so I’m going to start from scratch. How the spell works is that you say the incantation of ‘expecto patronum,’ which you of course will know is Latin for ‘I await a protector,’ and turn your wand in a circular motion - I’ll show the exact movement later - while thinking of a happy memory. The most important element of it probably, more so than the incantation or the wandwork when it comes to producing it successfully, is the strength of your memory. Dementors work by sucking out the happiness and hope from us, so the memory you use has to be so strong that there’s no way a dementor can take it from you.”
“I’ve cast the spell successfully in practice,” she admitted. “But never actually in front of a dementor.”
Miles listened attentively, whistling slightly when she ended her explanation. “I knew it was tricky, but I had no idea how difficult it was.” Still, it was doable. He hoped he would never be confronted with a dementor, but being able to cast a patronus in practice would be enough for him.
He paused to think. “All right, let’s see…” A happy memory. Climbing a tree as a child, a rucksack full of snacks on his shoulder, and spending an hour sitting on a branch, admiring the view and thinking about how beautiful the world looked up there. He remembered how happy, alive and free he felt.
He nodded at her. “I think I’ve got it.”
Well, that was one better than her. She had been thinking of that day in fifth year where they had beaten Slytherin and won the Quidditch Cup, but somehow she doubted Miles would appreciate the recollection of that particular memory. Mentally she scanned over her times in sixth year, that being the last year she was entirely free of everything but the most mundane of worries. The Yule Ball, Afonso - alright, perhaps that would work. Again, not a memory to be shared with present company.
“This should do,” she said, coming to a clearing in the woods.
“Roomy,” Miles joked, looking around. He wasn’t very sure of how much room was needed for a patronus, but his only contact with one (back when Potter sent his chasing after Flint, Malfoy and his cronies) gave him the impression that they could be big.
Just to make sure, he asked, “So, the patronus. Are they all meant to look like the one Potter cast that one time?”
“No. Most people have a form which is unique to them. It’s a difficult spell, so we are taking a relatively small sample, but it seems to be relatively unusual for any two individuals to have the same form. It’s usually the form of a non-magical animal, although some casters were known to have patronuses which were the forms of mythical creatures. Andros the Invincible had a giant patronus.”
Not something Harry had told them, being less of a book learner, but Alicia had done some research beyond DA lessons.
Going into teacher mode had relaxed her somewhat. She thought of reassuring Miles that it was a ridiculously complicated spell and that even being able to cast a non-corporeal patronus was a sign of superior magical ability. But since she had admitted over the journals that she herself could produce one in corporeal form, it seemed a bit like she was blowing her own trumpet.
“You focus on your happy memory, and then draw circles with your wand to increase the power of the spell,” she explained, placing the jar of tea to one side and stepping into the centre of the clearing. “Expecto Patronum.” The elation she felt when she had received her NEWT marks and seen that “O” next to her DADA mark, in spite of all Umbridge’s meddling. A jet of silver light shot out, but did not resolve itself into any distinguishable form. “Performance anxiety, I guess,” she shrugged, trying to make it seem as though it was not a big deal.
Miles grinned. He thought about making a teasing remark, given that Alicia had mentioned casting a corporeal patronus, but thought against it. He was well aware that the chances of producing one on his first try were close to zero, and he wasn’t going to provide her with any potential ammunition against him. Still, he couldn’t ignore her words. “It’s a good thing I’m not one for double entendres. Oh, wait, I am.” He widened his grin, hoping she’d interpret it as the silly joke he intended it to be.
“Right, let’s give it a try, then.” He mimicked her wand movements as he thought back to that glorious time up in that tree. “Expecto Patronum.”
A small puff of silver mist, rather pathetic compared to Alicia’s silver jet, came out of his wand. “Wow,” he said before he could contain himself.
“That’s really good, to produce some silver on your first try,” Alicia said. While genuinely pleased, she still felt twinges of the old rivalry, but tried to tuck them to one side. “Your wand movement is good but try to make your circles a little less tight, maybe loosen your wrist? It seems like your memory is working for you, but it’s not unusual for people to eventually need to use new or different ones.”
“Like most of my happy memories are more bittersweet at the moment,” she admitted, giving her own wand an experimental twirl, but not attempting to draw on either a happy memory or attempt the spell. ”I probably need to try one that is either specific to this place, or unique to me.”
“I’m sure I can find other memories if it becomes necessary,” he said with unashamed confidence. Still, he had the feeling he was going to stick with this one for the time being. The elation he felt back then was clearly good enough to produce good results. He tried to loosen his wrist as suggested, but got another tiny puff of smoke.
Alicia’s comment (or should that be confession?) about her memories surprised him a little. Was this the sort of thing one should admit before their “arch-enemy”? Okay, so they were a weird pair for that word to be used, but still.
“I think all memories end up feeling bittersweet sooner or later,” he said. Pausing a little, he added, “I think mine’s working because I’m focusing on the way it felt rather than the history behind it.” He shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t ask for details. There was a very strong reason why something that seemed so simple as a child climbing a tree was able to give him results on his very first try (he wasn’t arrogant enough to think of it as evidence of his superior skills as a spell caster) but he didn’t really feel like dwelling on them.
Alicia did have the brief temptation of prompting that perhaps he could recall the last time Slytherin had won the House Cup - if he could remember back that long. That would have been in poor taste, however, and not appropriate at all to the situation. You didn’t help people to cast Patronuses by making them feel grumpy and depressed, as tempting as it was to recall the looks on Flint & Co’s faces when some of them had snuck onto the Quidditch pitch disguised as Dementors.
“So keeping the memory in the moment?” she prompted. “That makes sense. I always want to point out the bad grammar of ‘patronuses’ and how it’s not correct pluralisation in Latin,” she added. “You know, hippopotamuses versus hippopotami. But then again, ‘patroni’ sounds like a type of pasta noodle.”
“I think most wizards don’t care much about grammar,” Miles said with a teasing smile. He did care, but trust Spinny to focus on those things when there were tricky spells to focus on. “That would explain some of my housemates, for instance.”
He tried to think about that happy day again. “Keeping it in the moment,” he said, more for himself than for Alicia’s ears. Sitting on top of the world, feeling light and free… Loosening his movements...
“Expecto Patronum!” Another puff of smoke, this one stronger than the other two though still tiny compared to Alicia’s result, came out of his wand. He smiled to himself. Not bad for a first try.
“Excellent,” said Alicia, and now the dregs of rivalry she had felt were completely gone. It wasn’t unlike the evenings she had spent in the common room studying with her fellow Gryffindors - seeing the ‘aha!’ moment on their faces when they finally got it always gave her a contagious glow of warmth. “Don’t be put off if you can’t get much further today - it takes a while and it’s a very emotionally connected spell, so some days you can do it and some days it’s a bit more of a fight.”
“I don’t think you’ll get to find out what form mine takes today,” she admitted. “But if you want to keep on going, I can correct any obvious errors and tell you whether you’re on the right track or not.”
Miles had to admit that it was a very difficult spell - emotionally connected, as Alicia had mentioned, and therefore exhausting in a way that he hadn’t really expected. While he didn’t feel like giving up, he was starting to wonder whether it would be a good idea to take a break.
Still, his stubbornness when it came to anything academic (especially if Alicia was around) made it a little harder for him to admit tiredness this soon. “We can have another go,” he said.
Boys, thought Alicia with a private smile to herself. She had been around her older brother enough to recognise the symptoms of competitiveness and obstinacy. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll just have a cuppa.” Removing what looked like two tiny white seashells from the pocket of her skirt, she enlarged them to the size of two regular cups, then poured herself some tea.
“I added sugar before I left the house,” she explained. “But I don’t have any milk.”
“That’s okay,” he said, grateful for the small break, “just sugar is fine.” He hoped the tea would be help enough in helping him regain his energy, but if not, then just the small pause definitely would. The tree memory still felt as strong as before, so he knew that part at least was covered.
As it had been how she was brought up, Alicia then passed over the cup she had poured for herself and filled up the second, therefore serving Miles first. “How can you tell the difference between English Breakfast and Earl Grey?” she asked, a somewhat playful grin on her face.
Miles raised an eyebrow. He had the feeling he knew what was coming, but decided to play along with it. There was nothing better than a good joke after all - except perhaps a bad one, obviously. “I don’t know. How can you tell the difference?”
“English Breakfast doesn’t have bergamot in it,” Alicia supplied. “It gives Earl Grey its distinctive citrus aroma and taste.”
Miles smirked. “I was expecting a pun there,” he said. “You know, something about the Earl. How disappointing.” He sipped his tea. “Honestly, though, it’s a great difference.” He wasn’t what you could call a tea specialist, but he enjoyed a nice cuppa once in a while.
“There probably is a pun out there somewhere, but I don’t know it.” Alicia shrugged. “I prefer English Breakfast.”
“Yeah, I don’t know it either, but I was still hoping for one. You know, to widen my repertory.” He gave her a grin. “I can’t say I have a favourite. I guess it changes depending on my mood.”
“Peppermint is nice,” said Alicia thoughtfully. “And there’s a Muggle brand with regular black tea, but with vanilla added. I wish there was someone half as creative here as Dumbledore is towards ice cream, but dealing with tea flavours.” She took a mouthful, contemplating her half drunk cup. “I got up to eight cups a day while I was revising for NEWTs, I think.”
Miles looked at her. “Oh wow, I can’t believe I’m missing the sight of a caffeine-fuelled Spinny by being here.” He gave her another grin, to show he was joking. “Of course, I’ve the feeling I was probably just as bad.”
“I think everyone was sporting bags beneath their eyes around that time of year,” Alicia said. “I have to say that I had other things on my mind than keeping track of your caffeine consumption.” She smiled to show that she too was joking. “Ready to get back to it then?”
“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug, though part of him was a bit hurt that Alicia hadn’t been keeping watch of his potential state of strain to poke fun at it. He looked at his wand. The pause had definitely done him good. “Yeah, ready.”