The Great White Bear by Skipper424
Chapter Notes: I would like to thank MissPurplePen for her help as a beta and her input on the “alternate ending”. Additionally, I would like to thank joybelle423. I appreciate your ongoing support very much!
The Great White Bear
By Skipper424
Frustration.
Joseph Carlyle, a seventh year student and member of Hufflepuff House, walked out of the Great Hall looking dejected. He had just completed the practical portion of his Charms N.E.W.T. He shook his head in disbelief. He needed an “Exceeds Expectations” mark or his dream of becoming an Auror would be in jeopardy. All that work, all that extra studying that he had done could all go to waste because of that last challenge on his test.
Of all the charms we’ve learned in the last seven years, he had to pick the one I cannot do, he thought to himself, hearing the examiner’s voice in his head, asking him to perform the Patronus Charm. Now, his hopes rested largely on the result of his written exam. He knew, however, that a poor mark on his practical would mean he’d need to get almost every question right. He thought he did well, but laid long odds on getting a perfect score. Maybe Professor Sprout was right.
Earlier that year, he had met with his Head of House to discuss his career goals. It did not go as well as he would have liked. For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to be an Auror. He wanted to hunt down Dark wizards and witches and bring them to justice. He wanted to be just like The Boy Who Lived, like Harry Potter “ the most famous Auror alive. Though she was careful not to squash his aspirations entirely, she strongly encouraged him to have a secondary career choice.
“The demand for new Aurors isn’t what it used to be,” Professor Sprout explained. “Not anymore, not since the war ended. Five years ago, they were taking anyone who had marks anywhere close to the minimum standards. Even if candidates fell short in a subject or two, they were still taking them. Given the short life expectancy during the war, if you were crazy enough to want the job, you got it, plain and simple.”
“Not now, though,” Joseph said, looking down to the floor, disheartened.
Professor Sprout rubbed her forehead as she read her student’s feelings. “I’m sorry, Joseph.” She took in a deep breath and laid his academic record down on the desk in front of her. “The Ministry feels they can afford to be more selective these days, particularly at the elite levels. You have the misfortune of being in a class with at least twenty other students who share the same career goal. They’re likely to take only one or two candidates into the program this year out of that very deep pool of talent. I’m afraid nearly all of your peers have better marks than you.”
Joseph could feel tears forming in his eyes and he felt choked up inside. “It isn’t for lack of trying,” he mumbled in a broken voice.
“I know, dear,” she said, standing up, walking around beside him and patting him on the shoulder gently. “You’d be atop the list if decisions were made on effort alone.”
He wiped his face on the sleeve of his robes and then stood up. He took a deep breath and tried to manufacture a dignified look. “I suppose there’s always the Prophet,” he said with a shrug, laughing in a manner that he realized was not in the least bit convincing. Inside, he knew he’d rather scream.
“Given enough time, anything is possible. All the same, a good backup plan never hurts anyone.”
Joseph turned to the door. He thought writing for the Daily Prophet was the last job he would ever want. He wrote a regular column for the school newsletter, which no one but his girlfriend, Jessica, ever read. It infuriated and hurt him when he laboured so assiduously to meet deadlines only to see his work go completely unnoticed.
I’d rather collect rubbish, an angry voice said inside his head. He left his Head of House’s office feeling more disappointed than he could ever remember.
Acceptable.
He couldn’t look when his marks came. Jessica had to read the letter for him. As she revealed his Charms result, he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Two torpedoes had just slammed into his hull.
“Oh, Joseph,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry. I know how much this meant to you.”
He nodded as she kissed his forehead. In truth, he was not surprised. He knew it was coming. He had been bracing himself for this blow all summer. He had hoped preparing himself for it ahead of time would dull the pain when it came. It did not. There was no worse feeling than receiving what appeared to be final confirmation that the career he had always wanted was out of the question.
Still, there was some solace in this sense of closure. It had been a torturous month waiting for the owl to come. Now, he knew it was time to move on, save one last thing. With full knowledge that it would probably never be accepted or even seriously considered, he completed his application for Auror and sent it to the Ministry along with a copy of his academic record from Hogwarts.
He watched the owl fly away until it was out of sight. “That’s that,” he said, nodding. “I’m sure they’ll get a good laugh at it when it gets there.”
Jessica hated it when he made negative remarks about himself, but chose not to take issue with it at that moment. She could tell, no matter how hard he was trying to conceal it, he was broken inside. Piling on about his self-denigration would only make it worse.
As Joseph said those words, however, a small spark remained alight inside him, smouldering under all the ash of his ruined dreams. Even as he sought to close a wound that had been open and stinging ever since he’d spoken to Professor Sprout, he knew he would never abandon this passion. It didn’t matter how he addressed it outwardly.
After a moment, Jessica spoke up softly. “What are you going to do?”
“Well,” he said, exhaling heavily, “You can bloody well bet I won’t be going to work for the Prophet.”
Truthfully, he had no idea what was next. It was as though he were back to square one, year one. He’d never considered what to do with his life if he didn’t become an Auror. Complicating matters, the wizard economy hadn’t exactly been booming of late. Good jobs were hard to come by, so much so that many wizards found themselves working Muggle jobs, which still paid better than their lower-level, wizarding counterparts despite the pounds to galleons exchange rate.
Jessica was the only thing he still had going for him. She sat there, on the steps of her parents’ front porch, continuing to provide her unwavering support. Though his career prospects seemed grim, his future with her seemed as bright as it had ever been since the day they met. He did not intend to allow that to change.
“What do you say we go for a tea at Rosemary’s?” he asked, turning to her.
“That’s my favourite!” she beamed. Then a look of doubt grew on her face and she asked, “Is that what you really want to do? I didn’t think you cared for it much.”
“Absolutely,” he assured her, taking her hand. He didn’t care where they went as long as she was there and he didn’t have to think about anything or anyone else.
Astonishment.
That is what he felt, sitting in the tiny little reception room on level two in the Ministry, just outside Auror Headquarters, waiting for his interview. In the four years that had passed since he had sent his application, so much had happened. Two years ago, he and Jessica were married. Two months ago, she told him that she was pregnant. The gravity of the situation hit him like a blasting spell he hadn’t seen coming. He was going to be a father.
Ever since she had told him, wearing a smile so large it barely fit on her face, he’d passed nearly every night lying awake in bed, wondering how he was going to provide for his family. Up to that point, he’d been working as a short-order cook in a low-end, Muggle restaurant making a wage that was scarcely sufficient to support his wife, much less a growing child.
They had moved in with Jessica’s parents when they found out she was pregnant. Joseph was reluctant to do so, feeling as though he did not want to be a charity case. Her parents, however, insisted. Despite the fact that her father said that they had lived with Jessica’s grandparents for a short time when they were first married, it did not ease Joseph’s discomfort with the arrangement. He needed to find a better job, one with which he could support his family properly.
Then the owl came. Joseph had to read it four or five times, and check the name on it at least a dozen, before he could believe it. He leapt from his seat and nearly banged his head on the ceiling, despite his short stature. “I don’t believe it,” he yelled at the top of his lungs, shaking the letter excitedly, arms extended in front of him. “I don’t believe it!”
“What is it?” Jessica asked, rushing into the kitchen when she heard Joseph shouting, flanked by her mother. The deranged expression on her husband’s face alarmed her at first. She had never seen him look that way. It took a moment before she realised it was sheer joy and excitement, not madness.
“I’ve got an interview with the Ministry … to become an Auror!” he crowed, doing a little dance on the kitchen tiles as he handed Jessica the letter. “This is it! This is it!” He shouted excitedly as he celebrated his way around the kitchen table in circles.
Jessica and her mother read the letter carefully. Wide smiles grew on both of their faces as they finished. She handed the letter to her mother and lunged at her husband, embracing him. “I’m so proud of you!”
She thought of all the late nights he had worked, all the times he had come home covered in grease and grime, smelling of rotten meat. There were so many things they wanted to have, places they wanted to go, but could not afford. She knew that living with her parents bothered him more than any thing else. Still, day after day, he trudged on. No matter how much he grumbled about his current job, the long hours and poor working conditions, he kept going back for more. He hated it, but did it because he knew he had to. She knew that he did it for her and for their unborn child.
“You never gave up, did you?” she asked tearfully. “You’re going to make an excellent father.”
She released him and watched him run out the back door. He proceeded out into the yard and began jumping up and down, dancing an odd sort of jig while he hollered boisterously and unintelligibly. She’d never seen him so happy. She laughed when he lost his balance and fell down. He was not hurt. He just lay on his back in the grass, punching his fist up at the sky vigorously. It was as though he was the champion of the world at something … finally.
Hilarious.
That’s how Joseph’s uncle John, an ex-Auror himself, appraised the situation. Four years after he was hired and while he was still fairly green, just a year out of training, Joseph was about to be given a special assignment. Incidents involving Dementors had been increasing steadily over the past year in both magic and Muggle communities. The Ministry decided it was time to take action. Joseph was one of several Aurors tapped on the shoulder to be part of the team they were assembling.
“What sort of Auror can’t do a Patronus?” Uncle John laughed.
If there was a secondary inspiration for him to pursue this career, aside from Harry Potter, it was his uncle John. The man had served in the war against Lord Voldemort and his supporters, and even fought in many of the same engagements as Potter. In fact, he bragged about it. He always told stories at family gatherings about how he fought side by side with Harry Potter once. “I even shook his hand afterwards. I could see the scar as clear as day,” he would boast.
Joseph sighed and began to explain how he found himself in this latest predicament.
“They asked me to do a number of charms for them when I was interviewed,” he replied. “Luckily, it didn’t go like my Charms N.E.W.T. That bugger of a spell was not one of the ones they wanted to see. I expect I would have never gotten the job if they knew I couldn’t do it.”
“Well,” his uncle agreed, leaning his head to the side slightly, “it’d have been a big mark against you, that’s certain. They must have just assumed you could do it. It’s one of those unwritten standards,” he explained. “When do you start this new post?”
“Two weeks.”
His uncle burst out laughing. “Two weeks!” he roared. “You’re being put on a Dementor Task Force in two weeks and you can’t do the Patronus Charm?” He continued to laugh heartily for a few moments, but his face gradually became stern. Finally, an expression that could not have been more serious framed his eyes. “Boy, you won’t survive your first encounter.”
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments while Joseph stared at his feet. As Joseph mulled over how he made all the way through Auror training while his lack of proficiency in the Patronus Charm remained miraculously unknown, the gears in his uncle’s mind were grinding so hard Joseph would not have been surprised to see smoke.
Suddenly, his uncle rose to his feet and walked over to a desk under a window in the den in which the two men had been sitting. On it, there was a long, thin, redwood case. He opened it and took out his wand, which was also made of redwood.
“Well,” he shrugged, “I reckon we better get started.”
“Ah … what?” Joseph replied, seeming confused.
“I’ve got two weeks to teach you a spell that most wizards never master in a lifetime,” Uncle John answered. “So, we’d better get started.”
“Right,” Joseph agreed, rising to his feet, looking determined.
Instead of bringing up the fact that his wife could do a better Patronus than anyone he had ever seen and that she had failed to teach him after years of trying, he decided to wipe the slate clean and start from the beginning. Maybe he would learn better from someone who had used the spell in real battle situations. At least, that is what he hoped. In the end, he could not have been more wrong.
Every day after work, Joseph arrived and the two men worked tirelessly, well into the night. He had not been spending much time at home, but Jessica understood. He had to get this spell right. Failure could mean losing his job, or worse. After two weeks, however, his uncle looked defeated and was frustrated with Joseph’s lack of progress.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Uncle John admitted, as the two sat for a drink after another long session that did not produce a good result. “You’re doing everything right except getting the bloody spell to work. Maybe you’re just not using happy enough thoughts.”
“Given everything that has happened over the last year, I don’t doubt it.”
His uncle did not ask for an explanation. Instead, he gave a slight nod of the head and averted his eyes to the window. Out it, he could see the sun had set and the remaining light splashed varying tones of scarlet and orange on the clouds drifting across the horizon. The final day had passed without the two of them achieving as nearly much as they had hoped.
Joseph looked at his watch, a gift from his father, who was a Muggle. He had been six at the time and the watch had been broken when given to him. His father, a man of modest means who always struggled to make ends meet, had sworn he would fix it. He died before he ever got the chance. Joseph, who loved the watch more than any gift he had ever received, honoured his father’s memory by repairing it the Muggle way. He refused to use magic.
Finally, Uncle John asked, “What time do you start tomorrow?”
“Eight in the morning.”
“Right. Suppose you better get home and get a full night’s sleep. Don’t want to be exhausted on top of it all.”
Joseph did not argue. The schedule he had kept recently had been unlike anything he had ever done before. He was managing little more than three hours of sleep each night and did not know how he had kept it up for so long without crashing. Still, despite his dazed mental state, he was conscious of how little he had seen of his wife in the past two weeks.
He decided to stop by the little Muggle gift shop nearby his uncle’s house. His uncle told him about it a few years ago and it was right around the corner. He had said it was a great place for a father to pick up a little something for his wife and son on his way home. They carried Jessica’s favourite brand of Muggle chocolates as well as a wide selection of toys.
He hadn’t bought Jessica a box of her favourite chocolates in ages. He decided it would be the least he could do to show his appreciation for her toleration of his insane schedule.
Horror.
Joseph watched as the shapeless ghost that was his latest feeble attempt at conjuring a Patronus faded away. Soon, the dim light that was no brighter than a burning matchstick in a sea of blackness was gone. The lack of illumination did not quiet that sound, however. He could still clearly hear the horrible rattling noise they made as they attempted to vacuum all happiness from their surroundings. One of them had to be close.
He could feel panic washing over him. The air suddenly felt much colder, like a door left wide-open in the dead of winter. He knew the visions would start soon if he did not force himself to concentrate. It was just so hard. His mind felt numb and his hands were shaking. Beads of icy perspiration dotted the skin on his hand, arms, and brow.
Though he searched his thoughts fervently for any available, happy memory, nothing came. Instead, what he got were visions of the past he hoped he had forgotten. In his mind, he heard the sound of a baby crying, his son. Then, there was silence … and stillness.
“No!” he cried out, suddenly realising he was holding out his arms as though he were cradling a young child. “Please, not again!”
Unsure how or where the energy came from, he dove out of the way when he felt a cold, bony hand on his shoulder. One of them had tried to grab him. He turned and gathered himself only to feel a new wave of horror blast him as though the levy holding it back had burst. There, less than ten feet away from him, was a Dementor.
It hovered there menacingly, sucking on the night air. It glided ever so slowly towards Joseph. It was as though it was enjoying torturing him before it moved in for the finish.
Sensing his life had only moments left, Joseph concentrated as hard as he possibly could. He extended his arm and pointed his wand at the fiend, conscious of the fact he was so jittery he could barely hold it steady. The Dementor was so close now he could touch it. It was going to kiss him, he was certain of it.
Then it hit him, completely unexpectedly. The constant stream of horrible memories had suddenly shaken something loose inside his mind. Using his last remaining reserves of energy, Joseph straightened up and thrust his wand in the direction of the Dementor.
“Expecto Patronum!” he roared.
Lightning struck, or so he though for a moment. He threw his free hand up in front of his face to cover his eyes against the blinding white flash. A great, white bear burst out of the end of his wand and barrelled over the Dementor. It stood between Joseph and the dark, hooded figure on its hind legs, flailing and swiping its massive claws. Then, it bared its gigantic incisors and charged. Beaten, the Dementor fled the scene.
It was as though Joseph had just come in from the cold on a blustery day and parked himself in front of a roaring fire. His face suddenly felt like it was burning and warmth filled him inside like a full cup of hot chocolate. It was all over. The Dementor was gone. He had actually gotten the spell to work a matter of moments before his soulful life would have ended.
He had not been able to produce a fully-formed Patronus before that night. All he had ever managed were disjointed and thin clouds with semi-shiny sparkles that did not vaguely resemble anything. That was not the case tonight. This time, there was nothing faint or shapeless about it. It was as brilliant and well defined a figure as he had ever seen anyone produce with the spell.
The moment he saw it, he knew exactly where it had come from. He could not believe his eyes. He could not believe it was truly there.
It gazed back at him, like a loyal canine eagerly awaiting its next command. It was intensely white. The surrounding area lit up like daylight from the pulsing light it radiated. It was so bright it stung his eyes. He winced and it took a moment before he eyes could properly adjust their focus. When finally he could see it clearly, he saw that it was an enormous, white bear. It was a polar bear.
Realizing that he had narrowly escaped his own demise, emotions overwhelmed him. Tears filled his eyes and he sank to his knees. He reached out to his Patronus, wishing he could embrace it. Just as his fingers would have touched its shiny surface, however, it faded away. Its job was complete.
Left with only memories once again, he crumbled down to the ground in a heap, exhausted. As consciousness fled him, he could hear the sound of a familiar laugh in his head. He could see a familiar face and a familiar smile.
Gifts.
He could remember it as if it was yesterday. It was two years ago, while he was still in training. He would have never guessed it would come to mean so much, thinking back to how happy he was on that day. Aside from a quick stop at a Muggle gift shop, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
He had spent five galleons, or a little more than twenty pounds. It was all that he had in his pocket at the time. In return, he would end up receiving something on which he could not place a price. One happy memory that had some how slipped onto a dusty shelf in the back of his mind, but never lost its potency.
“You know, you ought to get something for your son on the way home,” Uncle John advised him.
Joseph had stopped over at his uncle’s house after a particularly long day of Auror training. This was a common practice for him. He often reviewed the day’s lessons with his uncle. He found it very useful to hear the thoughts of someone who had actual experience instead of relying solely on an instructor’s preaching. The two would discuss it all over a drink before Joseph went home to his family.
“You must be joking,” Joseph scoffed, looking at his uncle incredulously. “That boy has more toys than he knows what to do with. He’s got cars, figurines, stuffed animals … all sorts. Jessica’s parents can’t walk through our door without bringing him something new. His toys litter our floors and I swear I can’t walk through a single room anymore without tripping on something of his! What more can the boy possibly need?” Joseph demanded, shrugging.
The expression on Uncle John’s face, which had been light and playful before, suddenly became more serious. “No gift is as precious as one a son gets from his father,” he said.
Joseph looked down at the watch he was wearing on his wrist, the one that had belonged to his father. It suddenly dawned on him what his uncle meant. “Aye,” he agreed. “How could I forget?”
Twenty minutes later, Joseph found himself standing in the Muggle gift shop right near his uncle’s house. The woman tending the store packed a box of their best chocolates in a bag and asked if he needed anything else. He nodded and pointed to a shelf directly behind her on which sat several stuffed animals.
“The one in the middle,” he said, “for my son. It’s nearly as big as he is. He’ll love it.”
The woman smiled. “Would you like that in a bag as well?”
“Nah,” he answered. “I can just carry it. Thanks.”
Joseph entered his house through the front door. He held the bag with the box of chocolates in front of him and the gift for his son behind his back. Jessica, who heard him enter, met him in the foyer. She kissed him and then dropped her eyes to the bag.
“What’s all this?”
“Only your favourite, Muggle chocolates!” he said with a wide smile.
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, what perfect timing!” she responded, looking elated. “I’ve just eaten the last toffee from the last box you gave me.” She took the bag and noticed he was holding something else, hidden from her view. “What else have you got?”
“You’ll see,” he chuckled. “Where is Aiden?”
“In the living room,” she replied, “playing with his cars.”
Joseph made his way toward the living room. When he passed his wife and she saw what he was holding, she laughed out loud and shook her head. “He’s going to go mad when he sees that.”
“Aiden?” he called to his son, entering the living room.
Aiden, who had just recently turned two, was sitting on the hardwood floors. He would roll his toy cars across the floor and then they would magically drive themselves back to him. Joseph was pleased at his son’s early signs of magical ability, even though he knew his son did not have a clue he was doing it on his own.
“Da da!” he said jumping up and running towards his father.
Joseph kissed the top of his son’s head. Jessica must have just bathed him. His favourite smell was the smell of his son’s hair after a bath.
He went down on one knee and pulled the gift from behind his back. His son’s eyes exploded with delight. His mouth opened wide and he shrieked. He began jumping up and down on the spot.
“Bear! Bear!” he screamed, pointing at it.
In Joseph’s hands was a giant, stuffed polar bear. It was flawlessly white except for black eyes, a black nose, and black toenails. Its shaggy fur was very soft to the touch, like cotton.
Aiden snatched it from his father’s hands and squeezed it into a tight hug. He ran around in circles without any real sense of direction. He was so excited. He ran over to Jessica and held it up for her to see. “Mummy, mummy, look! See bear, see bear!”
“I see,” she responded. “Say, thank you, daddy.”
“Thanky da da,” Aiden said.
“You’re welcome, son.” Joseph answered with watery eyes, overflowing with joy when he saw the glee on his son’s face.
Remembrance.
The sun was brilliant. The sky was as blue as the colour Joseph once painted his son’s room. The long, brown grass that carpeted the rolling hills waved gently side to side in the wind, reminiscent of how his son waved his little hand hello and good-bye. It was as though his son had grown into the landscape. Joseph could see his likeness everywhere.
He knelt down next to the small stone the bore his son’s name. Under his arm, he held his son’s stuffed polar bear. Its fur wiggled slightly in the breeze.
“Hello, son,” he said softly. “Wonderful day, isn’t it? You have the best view in the whole yard from this little hill here.”
“I’ve brought your bear with me. I hope you don’t mind, but I plan on keeping it.” He spoke as if his son could hear him. “It’s the only thing your mother would permit me to take from your room. She insisted on keeping it exactly the way it was the last time you were in it. But, when she heard the story about that night and how I finally did it, you know, did the spell “ the Patronus, she allowed it to me.”
Joseph let out a small chuckle. “You know, I remember vividly buying you this bear. Uncle John told me to get something for you on my way home once when I left his house. I remember thinking you had too many toys already. I was missing the point.”
He paused a moment and glanced at his watch.
“I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw it. The way your eyes got as wide as saucers and your jaw dropped. You screamed and laughed, showed it to your mum, the neighbours, the people down the street whom we did not even know … everyone. You showed it to everyone, whether they were interested to see it or not,” Joseph said holding it up as though he was showing it to his son.
He wiped a tear out of his right eye and looked away from the stone to the horizon. “You never went anywhere without it. You took it to bed with you and sat it at the kitchen table next to you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You even refused to leave the house without it. Nothing scared your mum and I more than one time when we thought we lost it. Goodness, you were so upset.”
Jessica walked up to her husband and knelt down behind him, wrapping her arms around him as he began to break down. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“The day I bought it, my uncle told me that no gift is as precious as one a son gets from his father.” He nodded, “I suppose that’s true. But, I know this much for certain,” Joseph cried, sobbing so heavily he was barely able to speak. “No gift is as precious as one a father gets from his son. I owe you everything.”