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Author: Ladybug Story: A Whole Minute Rating: Young Teens Status: Completed Reviews: 20 Words: 9,197
And then a silver hare, a boar and a fox soared past Harry, Ron and Hermione's heads. (Ch. 32 The Elder Wand, Deathly Hallows)
SEAMUS MICHAEL FINNIGAN Blood Status: Half-Blood House/Year: Gryffindor/Seventh Family: Half-Blood mother, Muggle father and siblings – 1 brother (15 yrs), 1 sister (11 yrs), Status undetermined – 1 sister (4 yrs) Residence: Ireland, outside Ministry jurisdiction Security Status: MONITORED. High risk security threat, known to be sympathetic to Undesirable No. 1 Associations: Shared dormitory with Undesirable No. 1 for last six years Academic Record: OWL Results – Astronomy A; Care of Magical Creatures A; Charms P; Divination E; History of Magic A; Potions P; Transfiguration A [Dark Arts results for this year group have been expunged from the record.] Disciplinary Record: Infraction / Consequence
WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN – DETAIN ON SIGHT
'We're fighting!' When Harry pronounced those words, not even half an hour ago, they were the only words I needed to hear. Now they're echoing in my head like a mantra, and beating in my heart like a drum roll. We're fighting. We're fighting. We're fighting. We're fighting. There's a lot of running involved in fighting. I reckon I've run up and down about twenty-six flights of stairs. I've been up to the Astronomy Tower, but the action there is pretty slow. Good view, but not very effective, in my opinion. I've lost track of Dean, which has been the biggest problem of the night so far, because I was ecstatic to see my best mate, here at Hogwarts, alive and whole. It was a shock coming back to school to discover that Dean wasn't going to be here. I felt pretty peeved, at first, that he hadn't let me know he wasn't coming back. But then I realised just what sort of a predicament he was in. It wasn't really surprising, once I'd thought about it. You know what? I reckon he told his parents he was coming back to school and took a detour into hiding on the way to King's Cross. I'd bet my little sister – both of them – that Mr and Mrs Thomas don't have a clue what's going on for us wizards in Britain right now. I hadn't really appreciated just how close me and Dean are. Every five minutes I would turn around to share a joke, have a laugh or whinge with him. It took weeks for me to remember he wasn't here. And when it struck me, that first night, that it'd just be me and Neville in the dorm … well, you can imagine my thoughts. Resigned, would be putting it kindly. He's a nice fellow and all, but he's not the most exciting bloke … or, well, so I thought. Anyway, I'm sure you've heard about him by now. I reckon he's probably the second-most admired bloke in Britain according to Hogwarts people – among those that count, that is. So these last few weeks, while we've been hiding out and gearing ourselves up for some kind of action, I have to admit that I sometimes wondered if all the trouble had been worth it – all the detentions, the pain and the persecution. But when Dean stepped through that hole, something inside me exploded into – I don't know how to put it – joy, I think. It felt even better than when Harry, Ron and Hermione had turned up a few minutes before. Since then, though, we've barely had a chance to say hi to each other, because You-Know-Who has decided it's time to get his arse kicked. So yeah, seeing my best mate, here at Hogwarts, alive and whole, seems to make the whole enterprise that much more worthwhile. I careen around a corner and take another staircase down. A Death Eater is running up the staircase towards me. An image of my twelve-year-old self at Duelling Club fighting Darth Vader fills my mind, along with the way we used to make fun of Ron with Muggle talk. I hold my wand aloft and point to the ceiling, shrieking in as girly a voice as I can summon, 'CYBORGS!' The Death Eater looks backwards, idiot, and I send a Reductor curse his way – he flies over the balustrade and out of sight. Sly and cunning, Finnigan, that's the way, sly and cunning. Chuckling, I leap down the stairs and race on. Most of the action seems to be outside the castle or around the Entrance Hall. Turning a corner, I run into Ernie-the-Bore and the two us race on, side by side. As I run, I pat the parchment that's tucked into my breast pocket. It crackles under my hand, a talisman of sorts to inspire me to deeds even greater than the ones it records. Merlin, there are some clever wizards around! Boot managed to cast some sort of charm earlier in the year when we'd got into Filch's filing cabinet to check our student records. Every time an entry's added, it appears in flowing green script on the replicas we've pinned to the board in our make-do refuge. It's a matter of pride to have the most entries under Disciplinary Record. Unfortunately, Neville has me beat; but then again, Neville has to make up for his Pure-Blood Status, so I figure we're about even. It's chaos in the Entrance Hall. Lavender is stirring on the floor and I feel pulled for a moment to see if she's all right. There's lots going on here, but I start pushing my way towards her until Loony screams something about Harry, or spiders and Hagrid or something, and yanks me forward to the front doors. I glance back – to my old girlfriend – and send her a silent message. Hang in there, Lavender – look who's making a stand now; look who's getting involved. It's noisy outside; there are giants, among other things, and it seems bizarre that I run right past them without a second glance. Ernie stops dead, and Luna and I bump into him. It feels like we've stepped into a refrigerator; I can hear distant shrieks of what sounds like a banshee. 'Dementors,' hisses Ernie, looking around searching for them, but then Luna points down the slope. 'It's Harry, look, and Ron and Hermione!' Well, I was looking for action, and you can't get any closer to it than those three. It makes me wonder where they've actually been and what they've been doing all year. From my spot on the couch, it seems like the only good they managed to achieve is not to get themselves killed. But no, that's a bit unfair – I mean, here they are, right in the thick of it, and obviously with some plan for doing in He Who Must Not Be Named. It's not working right at the moment, though. I can see them attempting to cast their Patronuses. Faint mist wafts about them as dozens, maybe a hundred, Dementors emerge from the Forest and move rapidly towards them. They obviously need some help. 'Let's go.' I take the lead as we hurry down the hill. The closer we get, the more evident it is that our three friends are struggling in the face of so many of the soul-sucking fiends. If we don't get there before a minute's up, it'll be too late. 'C'mon!' I yell, with the drum roll beating faster and faster in my chest. We're fighting. We're fighting. I've abandoned Harry once before and I'm not going to do it again. I've learnt a lot since those days. I've learnt the difference between being indifferent and being good. I've discovered how malicious the slightest form of discrimination can be. And, strange as it seems, part of me is even grateful to Dean for staying away from school, because it showed me just how sick these pure-blood fanatics are. If they want to stop people like me being friends with people like Dean, then I'm going to do everything in my power to stop them. Ever since Dumbledore's funeral, when I finally stopped clinging to some fairytale childhood, I've learnt how fulfilling life can actually be – despite the persecution – or maybe because of it. All year I've felt determined, had a purpose, and it's amazing what a difference it makes. It wasn't so long ago I thought Life Was Not Fun, but this year, having stood up to the bastards and actually made a difference, I've discovered that Life Is Worth Fighting For. We reach Harry, Ron and Hermione and the world suddenly seems silent. I look around me, wondering if we've entered an alternate universe. The harsh noises of battle have faded, the light of spells doesn't reach us here; there's just the six of us, enfolded in a sphere of gloom and despair. But we still know what to do: just as we've done countless times in the Room of Requirement, we raise our wands. I summon my happiest memory – curiously, it's the first time I cast a real corporeal Patronus. (My original happy memory was screaming my lungs out, with Dean beside me, watching Ireland win the World Cup – that was pretty much the highlight of my whole childhood.) The sight of the sly fox, scarpering about the Room of Requirement, gave me the most satisfaction – the most pride – I've ever felt in my life. Now, I reach inside to pull that memory forth, but as the Dementors draw nearer I feel it leaving, being sucked out against my will. I've never been so close to so many Dementors. In the chill, I close my eyes and stretch for the happy memory, clasping it in the very tips of my mental fingers, and while it's still there I snap open my eyes and yell, together with my two school-mates. 'EXPECTO PATRONUM!' I stagger back as the fox springs forth from my wand and, on either side, Ernie's boar and Luna's hare fly with it towards the oncoming enemy. The Dementors begin to retreat, hoarse screeching sounds coming from their fleeing forms. We move forwards till we're even with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and continue to cast Patronus after Patronus. They're looking quite a bit worse for wear, those three; they must have really been through some stuff. If we've heard about Gringotts and the dragon, I wonder what they've done that we haven't heard about. 'That's right,' says Luna encouragingly, 'that's right, Harry … come on, think of something happy.' 'Something happy?' Harry's voice cracks. And I thought I looked bad: Harry looks like the dragon chewed him up and spat him out. All three of them look defeated and I'm worried we've arrived a minute too late. Come on, Harry, I will silently, we're fighting! Ernie keeps churning out silver boars in that determined way he has. We all make fun of it, but it's handy to have by your side at a moment like this. I do my best to keep up with him in the Patronus tally. 'We're all still here,' Luna whispers, 'we're still fighting. Come on, now …' We're fighting! We're fighting! It takes a whole minute of trying, but finally Harry's enormous silver stag, which the DA has been speaking about and missing all year, leaps forward and chases the remaining Dementors away. The pall of misery that engulfed us lifts; sounds of vicious fighting fill my ears once again. Suddenly, as though I really understand it for the first time tonight, Harry's words simultaneously cause me intense fear and immense excitement. We're fighting! We're fighting! We're fighting! We're fighting! Ron's face is green as he turns to us, saying shakily, 'Can't thank you enough, you just saved –' But his thanks are deafened by a ground-shaking roar that comes from yet another giant, this one emerging from the Forest, and heading straight for us with an eight-foot-long club. I manage to get a good look at this one, just as Harry yells – 'RUN!' And it really does seem to be the best idea. Did I mention there's a lot of running involved in fighting? Well, I'm running for my life now, turning back to the castle and dodging giants' feet as I go. Did we really just save their lives? I think of that echoing, bone-chilling voice of You-Know-Who terrorising the whole school. I hope our help with those Dementors will have been worth it in the end. I race back towards the Entrance Hall, heart pounding; hoping to find Dean, whole and alive; wondering if Lavender is all right; not knowing what the next few minutes will hold. But no matter what happens, I know I'll keep fighting for what I believe in. And I believe I've probably just lived the most important minute of my whole life. THE END * More Author's Notes: Text has been quoted from the following splendiferous JKR works: And in other news … Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, light sabres, Star Wars, Death Star, the Force, carbon-freezing and hibernation sickness are figments of someone else's imagination, not mine (unhappily). The HP Lexicon defines a 'Moke' as 'a small lizard that can shrink at will' and, though it doesn't say so, I'm sure that a Moke makes practically no noise at all. (Post-DH: It's skin is also pretty useful for making undetectable pouches that you can keep round your neck and store all your treasures in.) Someone else also invented cyborgs, but I'm afraid I don't know who that was.Finally … Thanks to Gypsy who put up with me labouring over these inconsequential little moments for the last few years, and for the talented Tante for her excellent polishing skills.
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