Thursday, 24th March, 11:15am

The seventh years landed with a mixture of grace and utter indignity. Portkeys could make one feel like they had been turned inside out, or at least bring up a meal if one was not adjusted. It was lucky that their lesson was just before lunch that Thursday[1] so breakfast at least had time to be digested.

Professor Storm released his grip on the tartan blanket which had formed their lift for the journey from just outside the Hogwarts gates. The uneasy feeling was already present. It was partly brought on by the considerations of risk at taking the students due to sit their NEWTs in a couple of months to get first-hand experience for one of their essay questions, but more significantly induced by the dark atmosphere around them.

Scotland had been relatively mild[2] considering the cold and wet weather they had been experiencing, but here in this pocket of North Yorkshire, the sun had deserted them, despite it nearly being the middle of the day.

The students were looking about themselves, at the ruin of Crackpot House and the Beldi Hill tin mine[3], abandoned in the 1950s after inhabitation since the 1500s. The 1700s house in ruins was two storeys and would have had a slate roof with matching cow sheds.[4]

They were not alone. Several unimpressed adult witches and wizards stood around, dressed for the weather and terrain in a more muggle style, wands in hand. They critically looked over the students, muttering to each other.

“Students - Professors - Professor Storm!” The ruddy face of Edwin Glass greeted them all with enthusiasm which seemed oddly out of place in the conditions. Then again, the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was a visible sight in the papers the past few weeks since his nomination for Minister of Magic. The nearby flash and pop of a Daiy Prophet camera bulb only reiterated that this arrangement, ‘beneficial' for the students, was also a handy photo opportunity for the wizard hoping to lead the country’s magical population.

Professor Storm gritted his teeth, and nodded shortly to the wizard.
“Seventh Years,” he addressed, raising his voice, “This is Mr Edwin Glass, Head of the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The Ministry has facilitated your brief visit here today to gain firsthand experience of encountering dementors. The ladies and gentlemen around you are also from the Department, and here to accompany us.”

“Now, stick together,” Glass interrupted, “We can’t have the brightest and best from your generation vanishing. You’ll be perfectly safe amongst us, if you follow instructions. We’re observing a small number of dementors just down the valley here, who were driven out from Darlington last night. No need to cast your patroni.” He wore a white shirt and red tie, tucked into khaki green trousers, and smart green wellington boots, topped with a wax jacket[5]. He gave a gesture to his team, pulling his walnut wand from the coat.

Merlin Ignan hated him.

“As we approach,” he turned his back on Glass to address his students, “observe both what you see, and how you feel. Take note of how others are reacting, the stresses and strains visible, how it impacts their pace and magic. We will not be here very long - nobody voluntarily places themselves in proximity with dementors for long. If it should prove too much, you will be brought back here. Follow the direction of the Ministry. Is that understood?”

Turning back, they set off. A grim little parade of teenagers and adults descending the valley, the dementors a few hundred metres ahead.

1.	2010-11 Timetable
2.	March Weather
3.	Map
4.	Brief history
5.	This is a British wax jacket

Ariadne stumbled on landing from the portkey. The ground was uneven and the air was noticeably colder than it had been at school. She clutched her school cloak around her more tightly and surveyed her surroundings. Professor Storm had told them they were going to observe dementors so they had experience for their essays. Given the amount of issues with dementors the past year or two, it was a dead cert that there would be questions about them on the paper in a couple of month's time.

She recognised Mr Glass. He was a family friend, well, had been more of a friend to her grandfather, and had suggested she apply for an admin job with his floor once, suggesting she'd be shoed in by her family ties rather than her intelligence. She hadn't been too interested at the time, and had taken it as a bit of an insult.

"Just once," Ari remarked to her classmates nearby, as they set off, "can we go on a field trip somewhere sunny and not dangerous." She already felt a heavy feeling in her stomach of dread, but she was sure that had been there before the portkey.

"... observe both what you see, and how you feel. Take note of how others are reacting, the stresses and strains visible, how it impacts their pace and magic..." the Professor instructed, not sounding very upbeat at all.

"Think the stresses and strains have been visible on these guys faces for a few decades." Ariadne joked in a low tone as they lumbered along, the dementors hanging in the air ahead. "So come on then, do you feel them?"

Raine could never think of a good reason to ever be in Yorkshire, of all places, and wasn't completely convinced that visiting Dementors counted - but here they were  irregardless of their respective feelings towards Portkeys or the North of England. The Gryffindor rubbed her neck wearily as she ambled down the slope with grey skies looming over the undesirable country horizon.

Her stomach had been left uneasy by the trip up and she wished she had brought some sort of sweet to placate it.

Chocolate, perhaps, considering what they were about to face. She drew up next to Ariadne as they began to remark on their observations. Raine did not like to be outside of Hogwarts, especially since she had informed on her Aunt Ira. And she knew that Edwin Glass was a special friend of the older Almasy.

That made it all the more important to stick close to her classmates and under Storm's watchful eye.

"Feel them?" Raine caught the tail end of her housemate's question, not reacting to preceding joke. "Oh you mean the Dementors. I... think I do. Or I'm hungry."

She placed a hand on her stomach and shook her head, carefully picking her way down. Even as she spoke, the thought of her late twin sister dropped into Raine's head abruptly, and she frowned at the Dementors waiting for them below. "I definitely do. Bloody hate these things."

Breakfast having been hours prior didn't stop Cadance's stomach from it's valiant effort to empty it's contents. As soon as boots were on the ground she was doubled over spitting out nothing more than bile. She had never had this sort of reaction to portkey travel before, though she often preferred more dignified methods of travel. She was certainly not fond of the sensation but it wasn't the first time in the last few weeks her stomach had tried such an evacuation procedure. Apparently she had a few more months of such to look forward to.

She felt her cousin's large hand on the small of her back, rubbing as she fought her stomach and waved him off. Finally she straightened and pulled a hanker chief from her pocket, dabbing at her lips. At least this time she had a perfectly good reason for vomiting, "I'm fine, I promise." She hoped the flash bulbs from the Daily Prophet's reporter had been out of sight. The last thing she needed was a picture of her in such a condition to show up on the front page.

Cadance wasn't exactly happy about being out in the field looking for dementors but she knew even amoungst the unpleasantness there wasn't too much for the creatures to feed upon. All things considered she had lived a rather pleasant and happy life. She knew she was amoung the lucky few though. There were certainly others within their year that were not so fortunate. She linked arms with her cousin as they came up behind Ariande and Raine, "Are you alright?"

Xavier jumped back as Cadance was doubled over ready to spit bile on his boots. He grimaced at himself for such a reaction before moving back to his cousin and rubbing her back. It had been a gut reaction to get out of the splash zone but it probably didn't make her feel any better about it. He tried to remember if he had ever seen her react like this. They hadn't exactly spent too many family vacations together as kids and had really only travelled like this for school. He felt it better not to ask her about it. She'd probably get all embarrassed or something.

She waved him off and he gave her a shrug, turning his attention back to their surroundings. It was certainly darker than it had been back at school. He didn't know enough about Yorkshire to know if this was normal or not. Most of his time outside of school had been spent either in London or back home in Montrose. Whether it was supposed to be like this or not, he didn't like it and was thankful when Cadance had recovered and linked arms with him.

Xavier contemplated her question for a moment, "Ah'm really really not." He spoke softly as to not let others hear. He knew enough about dementors to know they fed off happiness leaving you with nothing but your worst memories. Unlike his cousin who had very few bad times to be left with, Xavier couldn't help but wonder which horrible memory he'd have to revisit. The day the ministry came to say his father was declared dead? When he left Fig alone in Knockturn Alley? When he smacked Maddie in front of the whole school? When Callum beat him to a bloody pulp? When he saw the remains of his home after the Aurors blew it up? When he learned his entire family was gone? If he were being completely honest with himself, he knew none of these would be it. Betrayal, loss, even being accused of murder, none of it compared to that one night.

As they moved closer with the crowd, Xavier was certain he could hear the beast's growls, the stench of it's breath. He knew if he ever got close enough, the only thing those creatures would leave him with was the night he actually had murdered someone. The night he had to kill a werewolf to save his own life.

Peyton listened closely as the Ministry man spoke. Getting out of the school was always a good time, except when it was for Defense class. He had always thought of Professor Storm as a sadist and this trip really wasn't helping him think otherwise. Sure with all the Dementor activity lately, all the safely, awareness and preparedness that had been drilled into their heads the subject was going to come up in their NEWTS exam but actually bringing them into a fog of Dementors? Were they all bloody mental?

Peyton had little experience with the creatures outside of what they'd learned in the classroom. He had counted himself lucky. If a wizard went their whole life never seeing a dementor, it was a good life. Peyton had always intended to live that way. He knew all the basics, everything they were supposed to know. He had even managed to produce a full corporeal Patronus . . . once, but it was still something. He was hoping the Ministry man was right and they wouldn't need to conjure any today. He wasn't entirely sure he could make one a second time.

The group of them moved closer to the ruined homesteads. He wasn't feeling anything himself but he did notice small changes in a few of his classmates and the adults that were accompanying them. He wondered what they were feeling, though he supposed he really didn't want to know.

Nicholas wasn't particularly psyched about this lesson.  He didn't need to feel any more like the happiness was sucked out of the world.  But at least his stomach contents weren't sucked right out by the portkey. 

"Yes, we'd hate for anyone to vanish—again."  He also wasn't so sure about the Ministry employees being all that safe to be around.  And it wasn't like the Professor encouraged fluffy happy thoughts.  And he had yet to cast a corporeal patronus which at this very moment didn't fill him with hope, which of course wouldn't make it any more likely that today would be the day he'd finally do it.

All-in-all it was going to be a rough lesson.  And they hadn't even seen one of the soul sucking nightmares yet.  Unless you counted Storm.  Or Glass.  Definitely Glass.  The Professor might get a pass, depending on if he conjures up a pound of chocolate for everyone when the lesson is over.

It was a motley gaggle of seventh years in their uniforms, led by a ruddy-faced wizard, flanked by the catastrophes staff in their civvies which descended the slope into the valley. Their white-haired professor brought up the rear, keeping a sharp eye out for faltering steps, mucking about and trouble.

They rounded a bend in the path just before it began to fall away even more sharply, turning into a sheep track. The profound deepening of the dread that was spread over the area like a fog made Professor Storm hold his breath a moment to adjust to. Miranda had mentioned how as a legilimens she felt even more acutely tuned into the dementors, following Musgrave’s attack on them earlier in the month. At times like this, he was inclined to agree, and focused a moment on closing off his mind as he taught his occlumency students.

There the dementors hung in the sky, five of them, hung in the air a long way from the ground beneath them. As the students were still on higher ground, they were almost on a level, thirty feet apart. Slowly, the dementors were moving, turning, if they had faces one might be able to ascertain, towards the arriving students. Their cloaks moved like they were in water, as if they disobeyed air currents. What little sunlight had been left of the day seemed to be sucked clean out of the air by them. A demonic black cloud hanging in the valley.

On patronus, a fish, appeared from one of the Ministry workers, cautious. It did ease the weight ever so slightly.
“Observe,” The professor called to the students, moving forward and amongst them, “how they look, how you feel, how others feel. How the patronus reacts.” The fish swam over the heads of the students, its form failing and reforming like a dying candle.

He looked back to the dementors, and frowned, was it his imagination, or had they got closer? He looked to Edwin Glass, and defiantly added, "... and try to cast your own patronus."

Peyton didn't like anything about this trip. He didn't like the look the Professor had given the Ministry man and he certainly didn't like the look of the Dementors coming towards them. Were they supposed to do that? It was hard to tell if they were really floating in their direction, it wasn't like they had faces or anything to look at them with. Even still, he'd swear that they were closer than they had been before. The sudden appearance of the silvery fish from one of the other Ministry workers confirmed his suspicions.

Peyton narrowed his eyes at the Professor. He wanted them to make Patronuses. By all means, they should be able to. They were only a few months away from their NEWTs and subsequent graduation. Mere months away from being out on their own without the safety net of the school and Professors to guide them through their magical abilities. None of this information made Peyton feel any better. He had managed a Patronus once, a giant Phoenix that swiftly dissolved almost as quickly as it had formed.

"Feck it," He grumbled to himself before pulling out his wand. He focused on a recent happy memory and cast the spell. A fully formed Patronus leaped out of his wand tip, a magnificent (albeit miniature) lion. It strutted it's way around the gathered seventh years as if proud of the sudden blush that had come to it's owners cheeks, "bloody hell."

“Or you’re hungry?” Ariadne muttered to Raine, pulling a face. “I’d love to think I was just hungry rather than-.”
“I definitely do. Bloody hate these things.” Her housemate clarified in an instant, and Ariadne was pretty sure Raine hadn’t even heard her intervening response as Cadance and Xavier fell into step behind them.

Ariadne’s cocky reply was a forgotten slight as they clapped eyes on the dementors at close range. Ariadne tugged her Gryffindor scarf from her school cloak pocket and wrapped it round her neck quickly, both for warmth and for reassurance. She could hear her mother explaining what had happened to her grandparents, could remember the horrible storms at sea she had weathered with her father, and tears streaming down her face after a ferocious argument in detention with the Professor looming behind them within the first few months of him teaching them. Other, horrible, worse memories crowded and Ariadne gripped her wand automatically.

The fish patronus shot between Ariadne and Raine’s heads, startling Ariadne, and she accidentally jabbed Raine with her wand. The Professor speaking up from behind them did nothing to help her nerves. The fish faded and reformed and faded like a dying candle.
“Oh shit.” Ariadne muttered, her gaze leaving it to the dementors ahead, who were definitely coming closer.

“... and try to cast your own patronus."

Ariadne swallowed loudly, but from behind them, another patronus formed, and prowled round them in a lion form.
“Bloody hell,” Peyton exclaimed.
“That’s yours?” Ariadne asked, wide eyed, mouth hanging open. “Nice one!”

Peyton’s accomplishments dispelled some fear for the Gryffindor, who turned back, wand in hand.
“At least the exam isn’t going to be this bad.” She consoled herself and those nearby as she attempted to cast. But it was hard to think of happy memories when the dementors were closing in. Every time she called upon her happy memories of her family, recent events muddied them. Her patronus spell only conjured wisps. “No, no, no…!” Ariadne muttered angrily. “I swear they’re getting closer…”

Letting go of the tartan blanket, Elysia rubbed her stomach with one hand while gripping her wand tightly in the other. The Hufflepuff didn't trust any field excursions Professor Storm had in mind, and while she trusted that she wasn't in any real danger, Storm could very easily be testing them, and Elysia didn't want to fail. The feeling left behind from the portkey wasn't exactly pleasurable, but it wasn't distracting enough to keep the witch from scanning her surroundings. After a few moments, when the feeling didn't go away, Elysia's mind clicked on the fact that the fog was just a bit too unnatural. They arrived closer to the action than Elysia had anticipated, and that was another reason to worry.

When their entourage finally moved forward, and the ministry worker summoned his fish, Elysia wasn't a very happy camper. Why in the world would they need to get that close to the buggers? And anyway, weren't they getting closer? Surely not? But... if not, why would Storm want them to produce patroni when Mr. Glass told them it wasn't necessary?

The feeling of despair grew stronger as Elysia glanced around - weren't they supposed to be observing each other? Elysia felt rather confident in her abilities... in a controlled environment. When the monsters were literally in front of her, could she manage to produce a corporeal patronus? "This is insane," She said in a stage whisper to anyone listening (hopefully not their professor), and raised her wand, where her best cast brought forth merely flimsy smoke, dissipating quickly. She glanced over as a new figure appeared, a lion, and Elysia scooted closer to its master to draw from his strength.

Cadance tightened her grip on her cousin's arm. There was a shift in the air around them. Nothing more than a bad feeling but it seemed everyone in the group, Ministry personnel included, felt it. One by one Patroni began to surround the small group. Candace removed her own wand. She watched the fish swim through the air and the regal Lion prance around. Others appeared, others weren't more than a few wisps. Cadance thought of her happiest memory. A vague notion from her childhood when she still thought the world could be hers and she could be anything she wanted to be. She was soon joined by a silvery Aethonan that cantered around her before coming to stand by Xavier's side. She supposed her cousin needed the good vibes more than she did.

Cadance looked to the Professor, "Pardon me sir but given recent reports of Dementor activity and the attack on the Three Broomsticks," She glanced around at her fellow students, "Are we really supposed to feel anything other than dread or apprehension?" It was true the presence of the multiple Patroni helped ease the apprehension but only by so much. There was no mistaking how nervous the gathered Seventh Years were.

"Also, umm, are they getting closer?" Despite herself, her voice quivered and her hand subconsciously rested on her lower abdomen. Having just vomited it looked nothing more than her trying to settle an upset stomach in a tense situation.

As the dementors loomed ever closer, Theo took a step forward, gazing upon them with something akin to awe.

He was not immune to their miasmic effect, of course - he was many things, but unemotional was not one of them. Despite what some of his peers might have to say, that had never been a problem; he was simply better at controlling himself (which he could not say the same of them). Still, it was easier to handle the creeping despair (which settled like a frost, or a chill) when one saw it for what it was and had the strength of mind to stay on top of it. And Theo had always been good at compartmentalizing.

Conjuring a memory from more recent times – one of an ink-dipped brush trailing against skin in confident strokes, a larger hand braced on top of a thigh, three whispered words that are his, forever – silver mist poured out into the open air, until it finally coalesced into that of a wyvern.

Distinct and corporeal, it swooped and hovered in lazy figure eights, as though unconcerned by the approaching dementors. There was an odd sort of grace to them, Theo thought. Haunting, certainly – their desiccated limbs and digits were not unlike spider legs, their faceless quality preyed upon fear of the unknown, and their entire visage seemed to be half-made of rot – but there was beauty in the grotesque, too.

He glanced at Edwin, and then looked to Ignan, head tilted in askance, wondering when they would have their cue. “Professor?”

Raine had fallen silent as her peers began to cast (or attempt to cast) various patroni, eyeing the dementors whose presence made even this overcast day ever the more dingy. It was miserable. All she could think about for a while was her late twin; nothing new or original, the same old thoughts that had plagued her a thousand times before.

Dead. Never coming back. Never happy again.

Untrue, untrue things. The Gryffindor knew rather than felt that they were untrue but that was effective enough. She was startled from her thoughts by Whitman's conjuring, a patronus much more unusual than most. He and Cadance both had magical creatures as their manifestations. It never mattered much though: it wasn't about size or wonder.

But were the Dementors coming closer? Raine narrowed her gaze, stepping forward past Whitman as she cast her patronus - something she'd done before successfully. The memory she chose was old (and though yes, her sister was dead, it made every instance with her more golden somehow).

A tiger spilled forth on to all four of its velvety paws; stripes gleaming the ghostly blue of all patroni and fur bristling beautifully with the restrained detestation of cats. Raine took two cautious steps forward and flicked her wand, urging the tiger on towards the five Dementors without waiting for Storm to answer.

She wanted to see if the Dementors would draw away from her patronus. They were mostly adults. Ministry workers were all around them anyway, in addition to their professor, so surely the risk was... minimal.

Sasha vaguely remembered the mixture of annoyance and impatience that had accompanied him from the classroom to the portkey and their chosen destination.  Field trips were time consuming.  Yes, they were also beneficial.  Even he could recognize that no amount of book learning could replace personal experiences, but A Level examinations were little over a week a way, NEWTs were in a couple of months and this time spent tromping around in the cold could be put to better uses. 

Such as revising ... practice problems ... flash cards ... reading ... rewriting notes ...

Sasha had gotten used to his mind being in a constant state of frenzy as current class material, to do lists and memorization mantras about alkanes, organizational classes of life and physics equations all jostled for real estate in his head.  As they trekked across the frigid landscape, his thoughts remained a blur until they neared the bend in the trail.  The flurry of thoughts stopped.  It felt like someone had yanked the plug from a drain at the back of his skull.  The thoughts were suddenly draining from his mind, replaced by a sudden damp, depressing cold that was entirely different from the climate of Northern England. 

"So come on then, do you feel them?"

He'd known to expect bad memories ever since the day's lesson had been revealed to them.  He'd only given brief consideration to which memories they would be.  Worrying wouldn't make it any easier; he'd only force himself to play them back before even encountering the beasts. 

But, as the worrying about school and classes vanished, they were quickly replaced with unwelcome thoughts.

There were screams and yelling; doors were slamming and there were flashes of pain.  Red hot rage backed with an unpredictable, volatile accusations.

A burst of light caught his attention as a shimmering fish broke through the darkness.  Sasha shook his head, watching the fish a few minutes as he regained the awareness to reach for his wand.  But, in the next moment ...

Confusion.  Darkness.  A sudden loud screeching rent the silence.  More doors were slamming amidst more accusations, there were flashes of light.  And, the smell of blood.

Around him, more bursts of light and more patroni were filling the space around them.  His hand managed to grasp his wand but the cold rushed back in and he reached out to grab the nearest person to steady himself.