[Podfic] Hope's Cottage by thewholeofthemoon

Sirius Black had grown up a bit by July 31, 1994. He was not as impulsive as he had been as a younger man, not as hell-bent on refusing to obey authority figures, and certainly he was not as devil-may-care as he had once been, nor was he as fool-hardy. He didn’t drawl or strut as he had at Hogwarts, and he didn’t drive a flying motorbike or smoke cigarettes anymore.

But Sirius Black had been known for many things in his youth that had survived his imprisonment in Azkaban and year on the run as Padfoot, and resurfaced now fully at Hope’s Cottage. These traits included his aristocratic good-looks, his barking laugh, his penchant for leather jackets and jeans, his obsession with Quidditch and 1970’s British rock and funk, and of course, his love of Remus Lupin (this last one was only known among a select few). And—we mustn’t forget—there was also his predilection on throwing a bloody good party.

“How many Weasley’s? Tell me again,” Sirius said from he and Remus’ bedroom floor, waving his wand so that wrapping paper folded itself around Harry’s new set of Quidditch gloves.

“All of them,” Remus replied from their bed, where he was pulling out pages of recipes from his mother’s old cookbook.

“And that is how many?” Sirius said, turning his attention to wrapping Harry’s next birthday present—an enchanted two-way mirror so they could talk face-to-face while Harry was at Hogwarts without having to use a fireplace.

“Nine,” Remus said without a second thought, “And remember Arthur said Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood would be joining with them.”

“Too right! Blimey, I can’t wait to talk to Wood about signing with Puddlemere United,” Sirius exclaimed.

Remus looked up from his collected recipes, smiling at Sirius, who was sitting cross-legged in his pajama bottoms, a circle of wrapping paper and gifts, his hair tousled from waking up an hour earlier too excited to brush it. “Reckon Harry’s got enough birthday presents?” Remus said wryly, eyeing the growing pile.

Sirius looked up at him, “Never. But I think we found the sweet spot.”

Remus held up one of the recipes, “I’ve got to use Hedwig right after we wake Harry and do his gifts. Quite a lot of food needed for the crowd, and she’ll have to make a few trips for ingredients.”

Remus had insisted to the guests in his letters that they not bring an ounce of food for the festivities—although Remus had a feeling Molly’d still bring some pudding or other. The cake, however, Remus had made her swear in writing she’d leave to him to sort out.

“Right, right. And don’t fret, Moony, I’ve got all the drinks sorted.”

“I’ve faith in you.”

Sirius looked up at Remus with a wicked smile that made Remus’ heart stutter, “Remember that punch I served the end of term seventh year?”

Remus laughed outright, his cheeks turning slightly pink, “As if I could ever forget, the hangover the next morning made a man almost swear teetotal ‘til the end of his days.”

“That’s only because you drank nearly half of it on your own!”

“It’d just been a Full Moon and I wanted to dance without grimacing!”

Sirius barked a laugh, “Well, you were grimacing later with your head in the toilet.”

A few pages of lamented recipes flew through the hair and lightly hit Sirius on the head. “Oh, you won’t get away with that, Moony,” Sirius growled, grinning ear-to-ear as he leapt up off the floor and pounced upon Remus on the bed.

They rolled in mock struggle, their lips locking one another and arms roaming—

The alarm clock on Remus’ bedside table shrilled and instantly Remus waved his wand, quieting it.

Sirius beamed at him, “It’s time!”

“Alright, on the count of three?”

“Together?”

“I should think so.”

“One, two, three…” Remus and Sirius said together and pushed open Harry’s bedroom door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!” Sirius shouted and Remus called out slightly quieter (as was his way).

Harry Potter sat bolt upright in bed—his always-unkempt black hair standing up in even higher spikes than usual so that his lightning bolt scar was predominantly visible on his forehead. His green eyes—Lily’s eyes, Sirius and Remus couldn’t help but always think—were wide as an owl’s as he looked around before hurriedly grabbing his glasses on his nightstand and sticking them on his face.

Harry beamed at his godfather and Uncle Moony—both still dressed in their pajamas (Sirius had thrown a t-shirt on before leaving he and Remus’ room) and their arms full of wrapped presents. They came forward and set their load gently on the end of Harry’s bed.

“FOURTEEN!” Sirius crowed and from her cage Hedwig hooted unhappily at the noise.

Harry stared at the presents now in shock.

“Well, don’t be shy!” Sirius beamed at him, plopping down on the blanket besides the pile. Remus moved over towards Harry’s desk and sat in the chair there, leaning forward with bright eyes and a smile.

“Sirius…I…” Harry started, staring in awe at all of the birthday gifts, overwhelmed.

“Don’t say thank you until you’ve opened them!” Sirius said, handing Harry a box wrapped in gold and red wrapping paper.

Harry began to unwrap his gifts, and his shy smile turned into a delighted grin. His eyes stayed wide—no longer in shock, but still in awe and also wonder—as he unwrapped brand new leather Quidditch gloves, an enchanted two-way mirror, a cleaning kit for his Firebolt, fresh set of Gobstones, a box from Honeyduke’s of chocolate frogs, sugar quills, and Fizzing Wizz-Bees, a stack of Quidditch playbooks and a subscription receipt for Quidditch Monthly, a book specifically on the Patronus charm, a Wizard poster of the Gryffindor lion roaring (when he tapped it with his wand he could turn the sound on and off), and his own photo album (Remus had made copies of some of the photos from his own album and added new ones of Harry and his friends that he’d gotten via Owl Post from Harry’s friends over the past month).

Harry said “thank you,” and “Blimey!” so many times that eventually Sirius cut him off.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful and surprised,” Sirius laughed, “Now let’s hang that poster, shall we? Where d’ya reckon? Here? Or…here?”

As Harry and Sirius sorted the Gryffindor poster, Remus wrote out his recipe ingredients on a long piece of parchment for Hedwig, giving her instructions for the proper shops to get them and more than enough owl treats before she took to the skies.

Breakfast was chocolate pancakes and pumpkin juice, and lunch was roast beef sandwiches. Harry and Sirius spent the morning and half-way through the afternoon doing their Quidditch drills while Remus spent the entirety of the time working in the kitchen.

“Alright, near on time to set up!” Sirius called from the sky, waving Harry down to ground after he’d caught the Snitch for the fifth time that day.

Setting up for a Wizard birthday party was even more fun than playing Quidditch with Sirius, Harry thought. Even though he couldn’t use magic, Sirius still found ways to include him in setting up the decorations and table in the back garden. Sirius took Remus’ small kitchen table out onto the grass and transfigured it into a long wooden one while Harry went into the garden shed to pull out a stack of miniaturized wooden chairs that Sirius enlarged with his wand. Sirius pulled out a tablecloth of red and gold (what else?) and he and Harry arranged it neatly across the long table. Then there were party hats to stack out, along with poppers and streamers and glowing lanterns that floated on their own above the table.

“Sirius! Harry!” Remus called from the kitchen and they hurried inside to take five different standing ice buckets out into the back garden—two of them were overwhelming with butterbeer.

Dusk was just falling when the guests appeared out of thin air on the front garden. Sirius and Harry welcomed them to the cottage in a cacophony of greetings. Hands were shook all around.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Sirius. And thank you and Remus for having us,” Arthur told Sirius, smiling and adjusting his glasses that were slightly askew on his face.

“The same, Sirius. We’re so happy for you,” Molly said, shifting the dish onto one hand so she could shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sirius,” Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Lee Jordan, and Oliver Wood all said with wide-eyes and awed voices, looking at Harry’s godfather like he was a famous rock star. Well, granted, he practically was.

Percy Weasley gave Sirius a business-like nod that made Sirius snort, although he tried to disguise it.

Fred and George hurried over to Harry, but were staring at Sirius, for a moment it seemed that they were at a loss for words.

“Ron said that he’s Padfoot, as in the Marauder’s Map, Padfoot. He wasn’t taking the piss on us was he, Harry?” George said in a low voice as Harry greeted him.

Harry grinned cheekily, “He’s the very Padfoot.”

“A hero,” Fred said in awe, looking almost as if he was thinking about kissing Sirius’ hand when they shook.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Ron called, coming to give him a one-armed hug.

“Thanks, Ron! Alright summer so far?”

Ron was fighting the urge to stare at Sirius like his brothers, “Yeah, yeah, alright. You’ve been so sparse in your letters!”

“Well, actually, there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but it’ll have to wait ‘til later,” Harry told him quietly.

Ron raised his eyebrows but nodded, “Sure, Harry, alright.”

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Hermione and Ginny chorused as they made their way out of the pack of boys and came to stand by Harry and Ron.

“Thanks! Alright, Hermione? Ginny?”

Hermione nodded vigorously, “I’m so excited to see Professor Lupin again!”

Harry grinned at her, “Just Lupin. Or Remus, if you like.”

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed, “Oh, I guess you’re right. Still feels weird though, doesn’t it?”

Ginny’s cheeks were red but she was smiling boldly at Harry, “How’s it been living with Sirius and Lupin then?”

Harry smiled back at her, “It’s been grand.”

“Come in, come in!” Sirius told the gaggle of Weasley’s, motioning to the front door.

Cloaks were shed and left in the living room, and Sirius led everyone but Molly out onto the back garden, who had said aloud, “And where is Remus? I’ve got to show him this Bakewell tart…” before wandering into the kitchen.

The kitchen window showed six members of the guests getting the full tour of the cottage’s newly decorated back garden. The underage Wizards pounced on the butterbeers while those of age followed Sirius to the wine coolers containing alcoholic ciders. Remus watched Bill, Charlie, and Oliver follow Sirius around like they just couldn’t believe him, and by the butterbeer coolers Lee, Fred, and George were staring at him equally star-struck. Remus chuckled as he watched Sirius basking in the role of hosting.

“Oh, there you are, Remus Lupin! So nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard such wonderful things about you all last year. How are you, love?” Molly Weasley seized his attention as she entered the kitchen, now crowded with food, and gave him a one-armed hug that surprised him.

“Anything I can do? Anything need last-second warming? This Bakewell tart needs it, but that’ll have to wait until after the main course. How’s the cake coming along?” Molly said, looking around at Remus’ preparations.

He smiled wryly at her, “Cake’s splendid. And it's a surprise for everyone.”

She swatted his shoulder, “Alright, alright. Everything’s sorted for now?”

He nodded, “Think so.”

“Then what are we doing still in here? Come on, we won’t eat just yet.”

Remus fidgeted, glancing out the window toward where Sirius stood beside Arthur, along with an audience of enamored young men, and Harry with his circle of younger friends.

“Everything alright, Remus?” Molly said, suddenly catching on to his apprehension, looking at him in confusion.

Remus looked back at her with a shy smile, “Yes, everything’s fine, Molly. I just…” he exhaled and straightened his shoulders, “I haven’t seen any of my former students since the news broke about my condition. They were very kind, when it happened, but I know how attitudes toward werewolves can be. I just wouldn’t want to take any attention away from Harry; have anything be unpleasant, I mean, for Harry’s sake.”

Molly Weasley looked at Remus with her hands on her hips, “Mr. Lupin—my children came home for holiday break unable to shut their mouths about their amazing new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and all that they were learning. And when we had dinner their first night back in June, Ginny asked if there was a properly cited book on lycanthropy that I could help her find, and Ron, Fred and George got into a screaming match with Percy until he finally admitted to the Ministry’s failings on werewolves—and that’s Percy, we’re talking about. Lee and Oliver are equally impressed by you; no one will say a word unless it is in youthful curiosity and they won’t mean anything adverse by it. Come now, Remus,” she said, lacing her arm through Remus’ elbow and guiding him out the back door.

After a few drinks were had and the sun started to properly set, Remus and Molly used warming charms on the food and accioed dishes, glasses, and utensils to the table.

Sitting everyone down at the table, it turned out, was its own affair. Sirius insisted Harry be at the head of the table, to Harry’s reddened reticence. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. The greatest effort concerned who got the coveted seats closest to Sirius, but Sirius took it upon himself to make arrangements.

“Oliver, come here lad! I need to hear about Puddlemere, and Moony, you’re across from me,” he said declaratively after choosing a chair in the middle of the table.

So, the arrangements ended up as such: going down from Hermione sat Ginny, then Bill, followed by Remus, then, Charlie, Percy, and Molly. On other side, going down from Ron, sat Oliver, Sirius, Fred, George, Lee, and Arthur.

“Did you just call him, Moony?” Fred asked Sirius as they took their seats.

Remus’ face went oddly unexpressive, his eyes suddenly weary. Molly’s head snapped in Fred’s direction. Knowing what they all did about Remus’ being a werewolf, it didn’t really take a genius to realize how Remus Lupin got the nickname Moony, and all of the implications of bringing that up for conversation.

“As in—Moony on the Marauder’s Map?” Fred continued.

Remus smiled widely at him, weariness evaporated from his features, only to be replaced by a faint mischief, “The very same,” he said to Fred.

“Blimey!” George exclaimed, “But you gave us so much detention!”

Remus winked at him.

“Moony and Padfoot!” Fred breathed, “Our heroes!”

“And don’t forget Prongs,” Sirius asserted pointing up the table towards Harry, “That was James Potter.”

“What!” The twins exclaimed, but they’d have to hold their questions just a little longer. Sirius abruptly picked up the champagne bottle he had grabbed earlier from one of the wine coolers, and popped it with a dramatic flair. Remus helped herd the glasses along the table and opened another bottle of sparkling cider; drinks were poured and handed back, and then Sirius stood and the table hushed.

“Let’s raise a glass to my godson,” Sirius said, proudly looking at Harry, who was smiling back at him, a little shy but mostly in un-impeded joy. Glasses were raised.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Sirius cried out.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Everyone called up the table towards Harry Potter.

Glasses were clinked, and drinks were drunk, and then everyone tucked in on magnificent pork and duck roasts, baked potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding with gravy. There were also vegetables, but this was met with slightly less enthusiasm from most of the guests.

Fred and George hammered as much as they could out of Sirius and Remus about the Marauder’s Map before Sirius pounced on Oliver to talk about Puddlemere. Remus was happy to be seated beside Bill, who he could ask about his time in Egypt, and Charlie, who told him about his time in Romania with dragons. Ron told Harry all about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup near the end of August—and how his dad might get tickets and if he did, could Harry come???—and Harry told him it’d be excellent if Mr. Weasley got tickets and if so, that he’d ask Sirius if he could tickets too. Then he leaned in and told Ron what he’d been needing to ask him.

“Has Sirius asked your dad yet if he could come for the night here on August 9th?” Harry said lowly, trying not to look like he was whispering.

Hermione looked at them in confusion.

“Huh,” Ron said around a bite of his roast, “Funny you say that. Dad said Sirius asked him to come over here earlier this month but he had to stay late at work—”

“I know,” Harry said, “But has he asked him again already?”

Ron shook his head, “Don’t reckon so. Reckon he’d tell me if he had, or would mention it on our way here.”

“Hmm okay,” Harry said, looking down the table where Mr. Weasley sat talking to his wife across the table from him, and making a mental note to catch Mr. Weasley before the party ended.

With the main course finished, Remus stood—“No, no, Molly,” he insisted to Mrs. Weasley as she tried to help him—and accioed all the empty plates and dinner utensils, stacking and organizing them neatly in mid-air by the back door in a feat that had even Percy Weasley looking rather impressed. Then Remus went into the kitchen, ushering the hovering stack of dishes in front of him. While he was gone, Sirius topped off drinks and ordered everyone to put on their party hats.

Remus returned shortly with a cake platter, the cake itself covered by a tin lid, and Molly’s Bakewell tart dish. He set the Bakewell tart in the center of the table, and then carried the concealed cake to Harry, setting it in front of him.

“Will you do the honors?” Remus said in a quiet voice by Harry’s ear.

Harry beamed, and lifted the tin lid on the cake.

It was shaped and painted in an enormous over-sized perfect replica of a Golden Snitch, complete with sugar-feather wings on the side that flapped animatedly. In red letters was written 'Happy 14th Birthday, Harry' and underneath was an edible Wizard photo of Harry waving the Snitch high in the air, decked out in his Gryffindor Quidditch robes, from the match against Slytherin that won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup last year.

“Woah!” Ron breathed, staring at the Snitch’s moving feather wings. Remus pulled a set of sparking candles out of his robe and stood them up near the top of the cake, smiling wryly at Harry as he summoned the green flames in his hand and used them to light the candles. Then he straightened and looked down the table toward Sirius, who was waiting for his cue.

Sirius raised his hand in mock conduction, and the table erupted in “Happy Birthday to you...!”

After the cake and tart, the party spilled away from the table and out onto the back garden. Sirius lit a small campfire and summoned Remus’ record player, and the guests sat in chairs or on the grass in smaller clumps talking excitedly about their summer, or Quidditch, or politics (well, that was the adults), or magical creatures, or any number of other things while David Bowie or the Beatles played faintly in the background.

At one point, Harry saw Arthur Weasley stand and head over to one of wine coolers for another cider, and Harry jumped up from where he sat in a circle with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

“Butterbeer?” He asked them hurriedly.

“Sure,” Ron answered him and Harry nodded, trying not to walk too fast towards the coolers.

“Hi, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said as he came up on him.

“Hiya, Harry,” Mr. Weasley turned to him, using his wand to open the bottle of cider, “Happy birthday! Excellent party.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, although he knew he really hadn’t had much to do with it being such a great party at all, “Um…I had a question for you.”

Mr. Weasley looked at him curiously, “Ask away.”

“I was wondering if you could you come back here on August 9th and be…on guard or whatever…for the night?”

A knowing look came to Mr. Weasley’s face, “I was wondering when Sirius would ask me again. Didn’t expect you to, though.”

“I told Sirius I’d help him figure something out. And I just wanted to know if you could or not, so that I could have time to think of something else,” Harry said quickly, “If you can’t, that’s okay. I didn’t mean to…I’ll think of something, maybe I can Owl Dumbledore and maybe Professor McGonagall—”

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Hey, hey, no need, Harry. I’ll make sure I’m not working late. I’ll be here, okay? Earlier this month was a busy time—summer just starting up, loads of free times for recently of age Wizards to get up to pranking Muggles or charming things haphazardly. I promise I'll make it this time.”

Harry exhaled in relief, “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

Mr. Weasley patted him on the shoulder and then stepped back, “I’ll Owl Sirius with details later."

Mr. Weasley turned and walked back to his seat at the campfire. Harry fetched he and Ron a butterbeer (his pretense) and rejoined his friends.

After parting hugs and handshakes and promises to write and see each other soon (and maybe see you at the Quidditch Cup!!! Ron told Harry), the three inhabitants of Hope’s Cottage went back inside. Harry offered to help his godfather and Uncle Moony clean, but they bade him off to enjoy his new presents and good night, and Harry Potter went up to his bedroom thinking this had been his best birthday ever—and he had to read his new Quidditch book before bed.

Sirius and Remus retreated back outside to the still roaring campfire. Remus summoned a picnic blanket from the garden shed and lay down eagerly on the blanket, arms behind his head, looking up at the starry night sky and the waxing Gibbous moon. Sirius grabbed the last full bottle of champagne and copied suit, laying down beside Remus.

“Alright, Moony?” Sirius asked him, passing him the bottle.

Remus propped himself up on his elbows, taking a drink, “I’m more than alright, Sirius.”

“Me too,” Sirius agreed, “Fun crowd, the Weasley’s and those boys.”

“Hmm you mean your fan club?” Remus said raising an eyebrow and smiling wryly.

Sirius laughed, “I’d have said it was a shared fan club.”

Remus’ scoffed.

“Moony,” Sirius tsked his tongue, “Those kids respect the hell out of you. They look up to you like…well, like I do.” Sirius’ cheeks, already pink from drink, blushed scarlet.

Remus shook his head slightly, shy, and said, “You know, I was thinking at the table tonight how I almost said no to taking the D.A.D.A. job.”

“You wouldn’t have!”

Remus looked at Sirius with a soberness that did not really match how much he’d drunk that night, “Being back at Hogwarts…all the memories…after everything that happened…what I thought I knew had happened…I’ll admit, the idea scared me. But of course, I had to take the opportunity to teach Harry. To see him. To get to know him.” Remus bowed his head, “Every day I’m grateful I had the courage to say yes.”

Sirius used one hand to lift Remus’ chin, “You always have the courage; you never would have said no, Moony.”

Remus took another drink from the champagne bottle and passed it to Sirius, smiling proudly now, “One day, you’ll have to ask Harry to show you his Patronus. It’s a stag, Sirius.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up, “Tomorrow then! He has to show me tomorrow!”

Remus chuckled, “Sure, Padfoot.”

Sirius took a drink of the champagne and inched closer to Remus, “I’ve never seen yours; you know.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Go on then, Professor Lupin,” Sirius said, grinning, his dark eyes shining silver in the moonlight.

Remus pushed himself up to his feet, stepping off the blanket. He looked at Sirius as he pulled his wand out from the sleeve of his jumper.

Remus Lupin had many memories to pull from which would have summoned his Patronus. Most would have been from the summer so far in Hope’s Cottage with Sirius and Harry, and a few would have been his time teaching Harry at Hogwarts; one would have been seeing for the first time, and another would have been watching Harry cast his fully-fledged Patronus while riding his broom, catching the Snitch immediately after. And of course, there were the countless memories of his youth. But there was one recent memory in particular that came to his mind—it was of two young men, worn and weary, one was sitting in a chair and the other was on his knees, arms wrapped around the man in prisoner’s rags. One man had just discovered that his love had not betrayed him or his friends.

I love you; Sirius Black had told Remus Lupin for the first time in thirteen years.

Remus cast his Patronus wordlessly. A great silver shaggy dog bounded across the back garden, barking excitedly, it ran in a circle before coming up to the blanket, its spectral tongue licked the side of Sirius’ face, the sensation like a cool breeze, before it disappeared into mist.

Remus slide back down onto the blanket beside Sirius, who was sitting cross legged and staring at him with eyes slightly wet.

Remus looked up at him, “Can’t be too surprising, can it?”

Sirius set down the champagne bottle and lay down beside Remus, using one hand to cusp Remus’ cheek—the one with the faint scar from earlier that month. Then he leaned in and kissed him deeply. Remus responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ back and pulling him closer.

Upstairs in his bedroom, Harry Potter had been sitting on his bed reading his Quidditch playbook by lamplight when he heard what he thought was Padfoot barking. Curious, he went quickly to the window in time to see the Patronus lick Sirius’ face, and watch Remus tuck his wand back inside his sleeve and join Sirius on the blanket.

Harry realized then that he’d never seen Remus cast a fully-formed Patronus the entirety of his time at Hogwarts. He’d only cast a shapeless mist. Curiosity overcame Harry, and after three years of being friends with Hermione, he was empowered to pull out the book on the Patronus charm he had gotten earlier that morning.

The first chapter was an introduction to the charm, and the second one was focused on the memories behind conjuring a Patronus. Harry pushed up his glasses and read:

As previously stated, the Patronus Charm requires a happy memory—an overwhelmingly happy memory—to take full corporeal form. The happy memory must be so strong in fact, that most casters draw upon happy memories of love. Memories based on love, however, can be tricky. Memories of a loved one that’s been lost, for example, mean that the memory is now coated in sorrow, but usually such is the nature of a memory based on love, that a sufficiently powerful Witch or Wizard will still be able to cast a Corporeal Patronus even if the love is unrequited or lost. However, a memory based on happiness and love combined ensures the strongest Patronus.

Harry still felt unsatisfied. He leafed to the next chapter on the Fully Formed vs. Semi-Formed Patronuses.

A Corporeal Patronus is strongest against Dementors and, once trained and if prepared, a Witch or Wizard will always be able to cast a corporal Patronus after their first successful attempt. However, it is possible for a Witch or Wizard to consciously avoid casting a fully formed Patronus—if they don’t want their spirit animal to be recognized by others, or if they don’t like the shape it takes.

Hmmm, Harry thought, still not enough. He turned to the next chapter on Patronus Animals.

A Corporeal Patronus takes the form of your subconscious. It is a representation of oneself. The only time a Patronus may change shape is when a person has been altered so significantly that their self becomes linked to a new form. This, as far as records show, has only ever occurred because of true love. If a Witch or Wizard meets their true love, they may be so affected that their Patronus changes shape to be a representation of their love.

Harry set the book down. He took off his glasses, turned off his lamp and had quite a few revelations.

Remus had chosen deliberately not to cast his Corporeal Patronus throughout his time at Hogwarts. He had done that because even after thinking Sirius’ betrayed him, and even with his memories tainted, Remus’ Patronus took the form of Padfoot.

Harry’s heart stuttered for a moment when his mind finally latched onto the last striking discovery. It seemed, at least in the Wizarding World, that true love existed. It was real. And Harry was witnessing it firsthand.