Hermione looked up. Her expression was suspicious.
“I’m not going to try and interfere,” said Harry quickly. “But if we don’t see what’s going on, how’re we going to know when it’s time to rescue Sirius?”
“Well… okay, then… I’ll wait here with Buckbeak… but Harry, be careful—there’s a werewolf out there—and the Dementors—”
Harry stepped outside again and edged around the cabin. He could hear yelping in the distance. That meant the Dementors were closing in on Sirius… He and Hermione would be running to him any moment…
Harry stared out toward the lake, his heart doing a kind of drumroll in his chest… Whoever had sent that Patronus would be appearing at any moment…
For a fraction of a second he stood, irresolute, in front of Hagrid’s door. You must not be seen. But he didn’t want to be seen. He wanted to do the seeing… He had to know…
And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake… They were moving away from where Harry stood, to the opposite bank… He wouldn’t have to get near them…
Harry began to run. He had no thought in his head except his father… If it was him… if it really was him… he had to know, had to find out…
The lake was coming nearer and nearer, but there was no sign of anybody. On the opposite bank, he could see tiny glimmers of silver—his own attempts at a Patronus—
There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Harry threw himself behind it, peering desperately through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. A terrified excitement shot through him—any moment now—
“Come on!” he muttered, staring about. “Where are you? Dad, come on—”
But no one came. Harry raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear—but no one was coming to help this time—
And then it hit him—he understood. He hadn’t seen his father—he had seen himself—