Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

are you?’
    ‘I thought a Patronus would – charge the Dementors down or something,’ said Harry dispiritedly. ‘Make them disappear –’
    ‘The true Patronus does do that,’ said Lupin. ‘But you’ve achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the Dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground.’
    ‘You said it’s harder if there are loads of them,’ said Harry.
    ‘I have complete confidence in you,’ said Lupin, smiling. ‘Here – you’ve earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks, you won’t have tried it before –’
    He pulled two bottles out of his briefcase.
    ‘Butterbeer!’ said Harry, without thinking. ‘Yeah, I like that stuff!’
    Lupin raised an eyebrow.
    ‘Oh – Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade,’ Harry lied quickly.
    ‘I see,’ said Lupin, though he still looked slightly suspicious. ‘Well – let’s drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I’m supposed to take sides, as a teacher …’ he added hastily.
    They drank the Butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been wondering for a while.
    ‘What’s under a Dementor’s hood?’
    Professor Lupin lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
    ‘Hmmm … well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘They call it the Dementors’ Kiss,’ said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. ‘It’s what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and – and suck out his soul.’
    Harry accidentally spat out a bit of Butterbeer.
    ‘What – they kill –?’
    ‘Oh, no,’ said Lupin. ‘Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self any more, no memory, no … anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone for ever … lost.’
    Lupin drank a little more Butterbeer, then said, ‘It’s the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him.’
    Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. But then he thought of Black.
    ‘He deserves it,’ he said suddenly.
    ‘You think so?’ said Lupin lightly. ‘Do you really think anyone deserves that?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Harry defiantly. ‘For … for some things …’
    He would have liked to have told Lupin about the conversation he’d overheard about Black in the Three Broomsticks, about Black betraying his mother and father, but it would have involved revealing that he’d gone to Hogsmeade without permission, and he knew Lupin wouldn’t be very impressed by that. So he finished his Butterbeer, thanked Lupin, and left the History of Magic classroom.
    Harry half wished that he hadn’t asked what was under a Dementor’s hood, the answer had been so horrible, and he was so lost in unpleasant thoughts of what it would feel like to have your soul sucked out of you that he walked headlong into Professor McGonagall halfway up the stairs.
    ‘Do watch where you’re going, Potter!’
    ‘Sorry, Professor –’
    ‘I’ve just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we’ve done everything we could think of, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it at all – you’ve got a very good friend somewhere, Potter …’
    Harry’s jaw dropped. She was holding out his Firebolt, and it looked as magnificent as ever.
    ‘I can have it back?’ Harry said weakly. ‘Seriously?’
    ‘Seriously,’ said Professor McGonagall, and she was actually smiling. ‘I daresay you’ll need to get the feel of it before Saturday’s match, won’t you? And Potter – do try and win, won’t you? Or we’ll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night …’
    Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt back upstairs towards Gryffindor Tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron dashing towards him, grinning from ear to ear.
    ‘She gave it to you? Excellent! Listen, can I