At the same time Harry Potter rushed towards the lake, he happened to see Dementors flying past in dense swarms, like ravens.
He saw Sirius lying motionless on the ground; he saw another version of himself raise a wand, releasing a faint silver light.
It is almost here!
He rushed into the bushes by the water, trying to get a better view, and peered out anxiously.
Mum and Dad might come at any moment!
Where had those two deer... a stag and a doe... come from? He had to see for himself!
Come on! Harry thought excitedly.
However, no one came.
The other version of himself collapsed entirely; a Dementor had already crouched down, pulled back its hood, and was about to claim Sirius's soul.
Hurry up! Harry thought anxiously.
Still no one came... Sirius was in grave danger.
In a flash, he suddenly understood... the figure he had seen might not have been his father, but himself.
He leapt from the bushes, drew his wand, and roared, "Expecto Patronum!"
He would hesitate no longer, no longer doubt that he could manage it.
He would conjure it, without question, because he had already seen it happen.
He had already seen his parents' stag and doe, appearing in this very place, at this very moment.
A dazzling animal burst from the tip of his wand... a stag.
It sped past him silently, across the black lake; almost at the same instant, on the far shore, a shadowy figure raised a wand, and a doe as white as moonlight appeared.
The other Harry and the other Sirius were both safe.
The two creatures unleashed tremendous power, charging from different directions, scattering the flock of Dementors like ravens and sending them fleeing into the dark sky.
This was the most extraordinary sight Harry had seen all night.
He strained to make out who stood on the other side; but the distance was too great, and he could only see a dark figure struggling, then falling still upon the ground.
He was terribly worried, so he mounted his Firebolt and flew over with a flicker of hope... who could it be?
Perhaps it is his mother.
He flew over, bent down, and finally, by the moonlight, saw the face of the shadowy figure... a face he could never have imagined, a pale face with a hooked nose, the unconscious face of Severus Snape.
How could it be him?
Snape... how could he have conjured his mother's Patronus?
Harry was utterly bewildered by this extraordinary turn of events.
Some rustling sounds carried down from the hillside, the intermittent voices of a boy and a girl... drawing nearer and nearer... they seemed to be coming down the slope.
Harry hurriedly mounted his Firebolt and flew back to the other side, as though some ferocious beast were behind him.
He sat behind the bushes, lost in thought. When he came to his senses, Draco and Hermione, their brooms in hand, were already standing in front of him.
The figures by the lake had all vanished. They could just make out some dark shapes drifting slowly towards the castle... it was another group, Hermione among them, using a Levitation Charm.
"Did you see clearly? Your mum and dad..." Hermione walked over to Harry and looked him up and down to see whether he was hurt, but found only a blank expression on his face.
"Harry, we saw the light of a Patronus in the distance... a very powerful Patronus. Who conjured it?" Draco asked.
Harry said, his voice trembling, "Hermione is right, but not entirely. The stag... it was something I conjured myself... not the me of that moment, but the me of now."
"You should not have..." Hermione asked nervously, "did anyone see you?"
"I do not think so," Harry said, his face blank.
"Oh, Harry, you conjured your own Patronus and drove off so many Dementors!" Hermione exclaimed with relief and enthusiasm. "That is a great achievement! So why do you look so downcast?"
"It was me, from beginning to end... it was not my dad!" Harry said bitterly, dejectedly, sorrowfully, his head bowed low. "I thought my mum and dad had saved me, I thought they had come tonight..."
"Oh, Harry..." Hermione's enthusiasm vanished at once.
Her expression turned sad, and she said quietly, "Your mum and dad... they... would be so proud of you."
"Proud? How could they be proud!" Harry said bitterly. "They are dead! They can never come back! It was all my imagination, my wishful thinking! I was such a fool... the biggest fool alive... how could they possibly have been here?"
He buried his face in his hands and made a low, whimpering sound, like a wounded animal.
Hermione stood there hesitantly, her eyes full of pity, unsure how to comfort the poor boy.
Draco watched Harry's huddled figure, filled with anguish, and sighed softly.
He asked gently, "Harry, you conjured your Patronus tonight because you were thinking of your mum and dad, were you not?"
Harry gave a soft "mm," looked up, and gazed at him with eyes brimming with tears.
"Harry, listen to me, they did appear... in your mind... in your memory... at the very moment you cast the spell... otherwise you could never have conjured your Patronus."
Draco said quietly, "Of course they were there. They never left. Their gift flows in your blood, their likeness lives in your heart. You are the continuation of their lives. They will be proud of you, proud of your extraordinary gift; they might even thank you, thank you for saving their son."
Harry stared at him blankly, tears wetting his cheeks.
"They have already..." he said in a hoarse voice.
"Harry, so long as you live, they live, do you understand?" Draco said, his gaze steady.
His mother, Narcissa, had once said something similar to him.
At the time, he had not yet grasped the full weight of those words.
At the time, he had been too naive, too green, too rebellious, wholly bent on saving his father and sacrificing himself for the dignity and honour of his family.
He remembered vividly his mother pleading with him, careless of her own composure, saying, "Draco, please, do not go and die... you are our precious child, our whole life... we do not need you to do anything... so long as you live, that is all we want..."
"I will not watch my father die in Azkaban! I want him to live, I want to save him!" the young boy had said stubbornly.
"Your father would rather die in Azkaban than see you die... if you die, what difference would there be between us and death itself?"
Narcissa gasped, choking back tears, flinching at the sounds of the Death Eaters torturing her from the next room.
The noble composure she kept before others crumbled away, revealing a rare vulnerability.
"Draco, if death should ever come for me one day, I do not need you to do anything for me, I do not need you to save me, I do not need you to avenge me... promise me, do not go and die... so long as you live, we live..."
"Mother, I cannot promise you that..."
Draco's voice had been soft, trembling, and stubborn. "You will be all right. Father will be all right too."
Tears streamed down his mother's face as she pleaded desperately with him, begging her beloved son, "Please, do not do anything foolish, Draco, do not..."
"What about that doe?" Hermione's voice pulled Draco from his memories.
Harry's voice seemed to catch in his throat. "It was Snape... the doe was Snape's Patronus!"
Draco and Hermione quickly exchanged glances.
They both recalled what Slughorn had once said: that Lily might be considered something of Severus's childhood sweetheart.
A Patronus is a reflection of a person's inner self, and it changes in step with the changes in that person's heart.
One cannot conjure a Patronus in the shape of another person without some deep and enduring love in one's heart.
All of it was so strange and unlikely, and yet so real, and so simple.
The doe had been conjured by Professor Snape; it was his Patronus, his heart, and the clearest possible proof that he still loved Lily Evans, deeply, even now.
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