Bates was muttering and giggling, whether to himself or the Nothing that was Something in his hand, I could not tell. Jo-Jo Bottoms and the three Dementors were still a cloud of whirl and movement. It may have been my imagination, but the wraiths were looking more... translucent?

  Shamir and I were the only ones in the center of the Hallway. Just outside the three Bunkroom Doors were the three Room Bosses. Billy at Third, Rosey at Second, and Lars just this side of First, just as if they were at 'home.' Each was backed up by two of their best lads. I gave them a thumbs-up. Shamir just glanced and nodded, as if he expected nothing else.

  Billy gave me a beckoning jerk of the head. I dropped a couple of steps back toward him, and he sidled forward a little, til he could speak softly in my ear. Not whispering. Whispers carry.

  "John, they's suthin diff'rent 'ere. Diff'rent t' our barracks, ah mean. They's a connectin' door fr'm Bunk One t' Dinin,' an' fr'm Dinin' to Rec Room. Rosey put us t' roustin' ever'one but Red Element out 'n inta our Barracks. Need 'bout 'nother quarter hour. A number has t' be carried, like."

  "Dom fine work!" I said. "Carry on." I eased back up beside Shamir, and passed the word on. He made the slightest of nods, keeping his gaze fixed on Bates.

  The muttering was getting louder. And there seemed to be a faint, disjointed echo. "So hungry. Yes, so hungry. Ah, ah, ah! Not me!" He tapped his 'empty' hand with the Augery Wand, making his hand twitch. "Time to go into Containment. Just waiting on the Snakes."

  His eyes rose, focusing on the other end of the Hallway. "Why are they taking so long?" His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with them?"

  His voice was growing firmer, louder. Strangely enough, so was the echo effect. Except it wasn't repeating Bates' words. It sounded... French?

  Bates pointed his Augery Wand downrange, and shouted. "Drop it! Break off!" He Cast some sort of Fireball Spell, as Shamir and I dived to either side.

  It wasn't aimed at us, but it didn't matter. The weak thing petered out less than twenty feet past us. The other lads had pulled back into the Bunkrooms, but Rosey was still leaning on the wall by the door, one foot pulled up to steady himself. He watched as the spell dwindled and puffed out, about three feet from him. He raised an eyebrow, and cocked his massive head to one side, regarding Bates sceptically.

  The 'echo' voice, became audible, coming from the thin air. "Tres mal. Tres, tres mal! Quoi faire? Je sais pas quoi faire! Moment... peut être? Ah!"

  Bates whirled, looking around wildly. "Who's there? Who is that? You're not supposed to watch me, that was the deal!" He raised his 'empty' hand threateningly. "I'll let it go! I swear I will! I'm the only one who can stop it outside the Chamber!"

  There was a flutter in the air, nearly ten feet above Bates' head. A bottle of ink materialised. It dropped and hit with a very satisfying Thunk! Spinning as it bounced, a ridiculous amount of ink sprayed out of it, practically coating Bates in the stuff. His knees buckled, and he flopped down into a sitting position, swaying.

  Something else materialised. A bright red envelope began twirling through the air. At one point, I could see the addressed front distinctly.

  WANKER!

  Its last swoop dropped it into Bates' lap. He picked it up with two fingers of his wand hand, and looked at it stupidly.

  I spun on my bottom to put my back to him. My hands went over my ears, and my head between my knees. I glimpsed Shamir doing the same, and Rosey stepping casually to one side and back through the Bunkroom door.

  EXPECTO PATRONUM!

  It was like being caught in an explosion. The floor bounced me six inches into the air, and I tumbled sideways as I came down. I focused just in time to see Bates shoot past me, sliding on his bum and spraddled-out legs, leaning forward over them as if something had punched him in the stomach. He ended up almost as far past us as he had been in front of us, lying on his back, both hands to his midsection.

  Well, I thought. I guess if you can turn a Howler down, you can turn one up. Way, WAY up.

  I had little doubt who had sent the Howler. I didn't understand the choice of words, but I guess the forceful delivery of that particular spell would help...

  "Pop?" The word came from the other side of the Hallway. I saw Shamir, still crouched, looking behind us. I looked that way.

  Huh.

  Shamir, (entirely too calm, damn him), said, "That... is the biggest Patronus I have ever seen in my life."

  I tried not to peep like a parakeet, as I said, "Me, too." And I am a freaking' AUROR!

  The massive bovine-looking animal slowly raised its head, as if it had been grazing. It peered short-sightedly down the Hallway. I could tell exactly when it made out the shape of the Dementors. It froze. The muscles of the great body tensed, making it look half-again as large, and twice as dangerous. A silent snort of anger blew puffs of ectoplasm out of the flared nostrils.

  And... it charged.

  I flattened myself against the bottom of the wall. Yes, I know, intellectually, that Patroni are incorporeal.

  Intellect had no place in that space. Shamir had done the same as I, only faster. Bates had just struggled up to a sitting position, yet seemed to have no trouble at all returning to his supine posture. The Klock! of his head hitting the floor was quite audible.

  Jo-Jo was whirling, attempting to tear at the shapes around him, when he spotted the glowing white shape heading right for him. He stopped. A child's smile of delight and wonder spread over his face.

  The Dementors paused as well, still focused on Jo-Jo. Then their shadow-filled cowls rotated as one, to see what he could be...

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Too late. The horn spread was more than wide enough to encompass all three Dementors. They flattened over the huge boss ridge as the animal drove right through the spell-reinforced wall at that end of the Hallway. Grey ectoplasm splattered everywhere, dissolving like candy fluff in hot water. The wall, of course, was completely untouched.

  Jo-Jo had laughed as the Patronus passed through him, a great bellowing laugh that did not fit the small-framed body. He turned like lightning to see the Dementors splattered.

  A few moments later, the great white buffalo head came through the wall and paused, fierce eyes glowing. It looked left, snorted silently, then right, and did the same. Seeing nothing, it looked back to the small figure before it, ambling forward placidly until it was clear of the wall. The Berserker raised a hand, and stroked the broad nose. Apparently he could touch a Patronus while in his fugue state.

  Bates struggled back to his feet, somehow still holding his wand, and his... 'whatever.' Still wavering, he screamed, "You can't DO that!"

  Shamir shrugged, and said reasonably, "We didn't do that."

  Bates Cast viciously. Shamir stepped to one side, and a spell ricocheted off the floor beside him. It seemed to be some weird combination of Flipendo and Diffindo, because it scratched the finish. Slightly.

  Rosey opened the Bunkroom door and stuck his head out. He looked up the hall at Jo-Jo and his friend, at Bates, who had ended up about ten feet from that door, and down the hall to me and Shamir, whom he addressed.

  "We cool, Boss?"

  "Under control," Shamir replied.

  "Get... OUT!" Bates Cast a fireball at Rosey, who reacted like a wicket keeper going for a caught out. He snatched the orb of fire out of the air.

  Opening his hand, Rosey regarded the spell-fire in his palm. "Ouch," he said mildly. He closed and tightened his fist, there was a small pop sound, and little jets of fire spurted between his fingers. He opened his hand again and regarded the results.

  Giving Bates a disgusted look, he shook his head. "Not even a blister." He pulled his head back in and closed the door.

  Bates was not tracking well. He mopped at his face with the back of his wand hand, succeeding only in smearing still-wet ink over the last unstained patch on his cheek.

  He turned toward Jo-Jo and the Patronus. I couldn't tell if he was talking to them or himself.

  "They take forever to train. And you have to feed them, or they waste away. But you can't feed them yourself. And if you take too much from the guards, they kill themselves. And they can't feed from non-humans. Now the damned scum have their Quidditch and their Leagues. I used to run a good Feeding Pit. A little every day from a whole barracks, and they were fine. But the Leagues, and the hope... Sickening. My Snakes were starving. Ready to turn on me. Me! The Zabinis came just in time. And I could let them feed all the time. Feed to completion. So strong. They were so strong. Ready to start on another Barracks." He broke into a scream, "Do you KNOW how long they took to TRAIN!?!"

  Jo-Jo looked over incuriously from where he was stroking the broad, glowing muzzle. He evaluated the threat.

  Standing upright?

  Check.

  No paint on face? The face was all one color. An odd color, certainly. Berserkers weren't bigots, though. Equal opportunity killers.

  Check.

  Approaching him?

  No.

  He dismissed the threat from his spell-bound mind. The glowing bovine dipped its muzzle, and they rested their foreheads together, eyes closed.

  Bates screamed again, wordlessly, and staggered forward one step.

  The Berserker's eyes flashed lightning as they opened. He turned. Had he missed something? He waited as the Patronus faded, nudging his shoulder one last time. The last remnant of the man's smile faded. Now he just watched.

  Bates' rear foot came up. Came forward. Touched...

  Check.

  "For the Lady Hel!"

  ***

  I watched in awe, as Jo-Jo's tackle carried Bates back past us. Shamir just sighed, walked over, and picked up the Augery Wand, the which had come loose this time.

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  It took me a moment to realized what he meant. The Dementors were gone, of course, but that other feeling had diminished as well.

  Bates had gotten his 'empty' hand up between himself and Jo-Jo. The Berserker had immediately recognised it as the real enemy. His clawing fingers were dug into the Nothing Space that 'filled' Bates hand, and he was actually gnawing at it.

  Bates had the wind knocked out of him, but he started spasming, yanking at his hand the second he lost his wand. He was finally able to wheeze intelligible words.

  "My wand! Give me the wand! Now!"

  Shamir and I looked at each other. Seriously?

  "Get it off, get it off, geddit off! It's eating me! Please!" He seemed to realize his lack of, what do they call it? Agency?

  "LOOK, look, I don't have to hold it! Just... just... touch me with..." His eyes rolled back into his head.

  Shamir sighed, leaned down, and touched a bare bit of leg, where Bates' trousers had rucked up. Bates spasmed hard, his hand came loose from Nothing, and I grabbed the slack of his trouser leg to drag his unconscious form away.

  The sub-Bosses had returned. Shamir nodded to them. He spoke to Lars, gesturing to Bates. "Take him, tie him, and sit on him. Keep him away from 'his' people."

  The other two came up and flanked us. Jo-Jo looked like he was in the fight of his life, snarling and growling. I had no idea what to do.

  Shamir began speaking slowly, as if laying out the situation would help.

  "This wand can control that thing. But not well, by how Bates acted. And apparently someone has to hold the damned thing, which ain't going to happen. But if we free Jo-Jo..."

  "No!" The Berserker grunted. "My Meat! Draugr must die!"

  I scratched my head. Whatever this thing was, I was pretty sure it wasn't a Draugr. They are highly intelligent, very powerful, Dark Magick-Using UnDead from above the Arctic Circle. All the Scandinavian Auror Offices do Joint Full-Call-Outs to deal with one of them. Plus, they have physical bodies. Hoy, do they have physical bodies!

  On the other hand, arguing with a Berserker...

  Billy tilted his head to one side. "Boss?" Shamir looked at him.

  "Can Nothing get... Bigger?"

  Shamir, Rosey, and I looked. Jo-Jo's clawing hands were further apart. And getting even further as we watched.

  "Ah, Jo-Jo?" Shamir spoke hesitantly. "If you're in there, this thing is getting bigger. You sure you don't want us...

  "No," Jo-Jo said again. "I've... got this. It's trying... to eat my Curse." He was sounding more lucid by the minute. "But it doesn't know... what it's up against. Say what you like about... áleifr Olafsen... On second thought... No. Don't. Just... don't."

  The Nothing Space stopped growing. Distorted light was flickering in ripples around the boundary. Jo-Jo's arms, now spread about two feet apart, started jerking in unison. No. The Nothing was jerking him, shaking hard.

  "Hah! Trying to get away!" Jo-Jo Buttons' grin was completely natural, the sly one that 'slipped' out sometimes when he asked, 'Are you SURE you want another card?' And whatever you decided, you were wrong.

  "Keep eating, bee-yotch! There's plenty of lute-fisk flavored Curse left!"

  He was jerked clear of the ground, and dashed toward the wall. Rosey interposed himself, wrapping his big arms around Jo-Jo's chest and hips. They hit with a THUD that almost took Rosey's breath away.

  Almost. The little man was jerked up again, but nothing could get Rosey off the ground. No, that's not right. Even Nothing couldn't get Rosey... what? Anomaly? Oh, yeah, that's better. Even an Anomaly couldn't get Rosey off the ground.

  "Getting... dizzy."

  "Cut it loose, then!" said Shamir.

  "No... we're... close. So... close..."

  And... I don't know how to say this. When you were a sprat, did you ever get a big sturdy jug, or jar, or bottle, and seal it real tight? Then you hide behind a Shield, if you can make one, or a stump, or a tree. And then, you Vanish all the air inside the container. It didn't always work, but when it did, you got the most satisfying implosion. And a sound that can't be described, like the inverse of a POP!

  That was what we all felt. Except with our Magick. It was like whatever it is that makes us Wizards and Witches was... vacuumed a little outside our souls, before snapping back.

  And it wasn't satisfying. It was disturbing as Hel. (Oh, and that jug thing? If it doesn't work, don't put the sealed jug back in the pantry. I can still show you the strap marks).