128[@more@]tent empty handed, out of breath, and mouthing the single word, dementors.
"I couldn't . . . make one." he panted, clutching the stitch in his side. "Wouldn't . . . come."
Their expressions of consternation and disappointment made Harry feel ashamed. It had been a nightmarish experience, seeing the dementors gliding out of the must in the distance and realizing, as the paralyzing cold choked his lungs and a distant screaming filled his ears, that he was not going to be able to protect himself. It had taken all Harry's willpower to uproot himself from the spot and run, leaving the eyeless dementors to glide amongst the Muggles who might not be able to see them, but would assuredly feel the despair they cast wherever they went.
"So we still haven't got any food."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "Harry, what happened? Why do you think
you couldn't make your Patronus? You managed perfectly yesterday!"
"I don't know."
He sat low in one of Perkins's old armchairs, feeling more humiliated by the moment. He was afraid that something had gone wrong inside him. Yesterday seemed a long time ago: Today me might have been thirteen years old again, the only one who collapsed on the Hogwarts Express.
Ron kicked a chair leg.
"What?" he snarled at Hermione. "I'm starving! All I've had since I bled half to death is a couple of toadstools!"
"You go and fight your way through the dementors, then," said Harry, stung. "I would, but my arm's in a sling, in case you hadn't noticed!"
"That's convenient."
"And what's that supposed to — ?"
"Of course!" cried Hermione, clapping a hand to her forehead and startling both of them into silence. "Harry, give me the locket! Come on," she said impatiently, clicking her fingers at him when he did not react," to Horcrux, Harry, you're still wearing it!" She held out her hands, and Harry lifted the golden chain over his head. The moment it parted contact with Harry's skin he free and oddly light. He had not even realized that he was clammy or that there was a heavy weight pressing on his stomach until both sensations lifted.
"Better?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah, loads better!"
"Harry," she said, crouching down in front of him and using the kind of voice he associated with visiting the very sick, "you don't think you've been possessed, do you?" "What? No!" he said defensively, "I remember everything we've done while I've bee wearing it. I wouldn't know what I'd done if I'd been possessed, would I? Ginny told me there were times when she couldn't remember anything."
"Hmm," said Hermione, looking down at the heavy locket. "Well, maybe we
ought not to wear it. We can just keep it in the tent."
"We are not leaving that Horcrux lying around," Harry stated firmly. "If we lose it, if it gets stolen—"
"Oh, all right, all right," said Hermione, and she placed it around her own neck and tucked it out of sight down the front of her shirt. "But we'll take turns wearing it, so nobody keeps it on too long."
"Great," said Ron irritably, "and now we've sorted that out, can we please get some food?"
"Fine, but we'll go somewhere else to find it," said Hermione with half a glance at Harry. "There's no point staying where we know dementors are swooping around."