I don't have much time, Harry

Harry saw the gift that made him the happiest he had ever been in his life so far.

It was a music box.

Black, and the size of a palm.

When he opened the music box, a melody drifted out, sounding as if someone were humming. If Harry wasn't mistaken, this was the voice of the "Professor Lupin" before him.

He didn't know the name of the tune, but the sound was marvelous, carrying a sense of distant, hollow comfort.

"Dang, dang-dang-dang. Dang, dang-dang~ dang, dang-dang-dang, dang-dang~"

Dewey crouched down beside him.

"This is the Hedwig Variation, Harry, a tune named after your owl. Do you like it?"

Dewey said lightly. He didn't disturb Harry, who was looking at the ice sculpture maintained by magic inside; it was three people.

Him.

His father.

And his mother.

They were all laughing, playing, and snuggling together, looking at Harry from outside the music box.

"Harry..."

This was James's voice.

"My child."

This was Lily's voice.

Harry began to sob.

"Take this, child."

Dewey considerately handed a small vial of potion to Harry. "Drink it."

Harry Potter drank the potion without the slightest hesitation. After the high-intensity training of these past few days, Harry had developed a strange sense of reliance on "Professor Lupin."

This was perhaps a compensation for his emotional void.

One thing Harry had never realized—the long-term absence of a family had caused him to constantly seek external compensation as he grew, trying to fill the void left by his missing family members.

The appearance of "Professor Lupin" had filled the spot that had always been vacant in his heart.

The position of a father figure.

Someone who could act as a guide, and also as a protector.

He was obedient to "Professor Lupin" in every way.

Dewey handed the potion to Harry, and Harry drank it.

Harry felt sleepy.

He felt the world before his eyes becoming kaleidoscopic; his whole body seemed to be sinking, sinking, sinking, until he finally reached a quiet lake.

Someone was talking.

Harry turned his head and saw a face brimming with confidence and vitality, a face exactly like his own. Beside him, a lady looked at him, her eyes filled with love.

That was his mom and dad.

That was a piece of real memory.

Dewey sat on a table to the side. He was quite satisfied with Lupin's height; sitting on the table, his feet could touch the ground, and he looked to have a good build.

He was a bit heavier than him; he himself was far too thin.

Dewey didn't like being as skinny as a skeleton; he was supposed to be a handsome man, after all.

He gently rubbed his brow. He was satisfied with Harry Potter's current training, from both perspectives. From Lupin's side, he was training Harry into a true warrior.

Harry wasn't a genius like Hermione, let alone the outstanding students of the previous generation; in some aspects, Harry could be incredibly dense.

But in other aspects, Harry's progress was astonishingly fast.

That's right, dueling.

Judging by the speed of drawing his wand, the speed of casting spells, and his rapidly increasing magical power, Harry was a one-of-a-kind Auror. He needed a dueling style all his own, and Dewey felt he was truly suited for certain spells—physical-type spells.

Simple, brutal, powerful, and lethal.

Who said only Avada Kedavra could kill?

Dewey was considering whether he should ask Snape to give Harry a little help.

Several of his spells were very suitable for Harry Potter.

From another angle, that is, Dewey's own perspective, the amount of wool Dewey had managed to fleece from Harry in a single day was countless.

Three-digit White Cards!

True three-digit wealth!

He needed no other help; Du, at this moment, was a master of the Disarming Charm!

The spell Harry used most often remained the Disarming Charm.

Even Stupefy was used far less frequently.

It was only later that spells like Impedimenta appeared. At this moment, Du only needed a flicker of thought to upgrade and replicate the Disarming Charm to an incredibly profound level!

Thanks to Harry Potter.

Praise be to Hogwarts.

Although he did not continue to replicate and upgrade his Purple Cards—decomposing White Cards to replicate Purple Cards was, in truth, far too foolish.

Harry currently possessed no frequently used Purple Cards—he still had not mastered Expecto Patronum. The last time he faced a Boggart, it was Du who forced it back using the Patronus Charm. Harry's incantations and wand movements were decent enough, but the one thing missing was emotion!

In the magical world, emotion is a vital component of magic!

The cruel killing intent of the Killing Curse, the torturous pleasure of Crucio—some high-level magic requires emotion as an auxiliary. This was something Voldemort did not understand.

Love is also a powerful emotion, just like hatred; their magical origins are equally ancient and long-standing.

Therefore, the method Du employed today, the gifts of this day, were both a reward and a catalyst.

A catalyst for Expecto Patronum!

Before him, Harry had fallen into a deep sleep, his breathing steady. Du laid him on the floor, positioning him flat to ensure he was as comfortable as possible.

The effect of this potion was to induce a peaceful slumber, during which he could witness the memories of Sirius—memories of Sirius with the man himself erased.

Only two people remained: Lily and James.

While waiting for Harry to wake, Du sat to one side and cast "Alohomora" on the closed classroom door. The lock clicked open, revealing a figure with a cold expression standing outside.

He stood straight, his face stern, showing not a shred of shame at being caught eavesdropping or spying.

Snape.

Professor Snape had been standing outside for a long time.

During the days he had been training Harry, Professor McGonagall had made oblique inquiries, Professor Flitwick had hovered outside to observe, and even Professor Sprout and Hagrid had asked about Harry's progress; they were all very interested.

Snape alone was the exception.

He would only offer calm, biting sarcasm toward Lupin during breakfast and in the Staff Room.

"A foolish approach, Lupin. You remain as mediocre as ever, whether in your teaching or your private lessons."

"Ha, training Harry Potter? He is nothing like his arrogant father; he is far more foolish than his father ever was. It seems you have your work cut out for you."

"A desperate, overreaching method, isn't it?"

"Ridiculous."

Du had no particular opinion on this. Professor Lupin did not seem like a man who lacked the capacity for tolerance, and besides, compared to Snape, Lupin was indeed rather mediocre during his school days.

It was merely a fact; there was nothing to refute.

Not everyone could invent several hexes while still a student, or casually invent a Dark Magic spell like Sectumsempra.

Nor could everyone abandon the textbooks to improve potions on their own. He called himself the Half-Blood Prince, and such pride was not without cause. Although he had been left disheveled by the Marauders, the Marauders themselves were no mere lightweights.

Besides, Snape's wand speed was indeed not as fast as James'.

James' athletic talent had been a great boon to his dueling.

At this moment, Snape stood at the door holding a potion, looking at the unconscious Harry, and walked in as usual.

"You forgot to drink your potion, Lupin."

He handed the Wolfsbane Potion to "Lupin" with an expressionless face. Du looked at the potion and thanked Snape.

"Don't thank me."

Snape said, as cold as ever: "I do not accept thanks from a Dark creature."

He glanced at Harry once more, seeing the smile on the boy's face, and felt his inner agitation and panic grow. When the boy closed his eyes, he looked exactly like James Potter; seeing that face made him extremely uncomfortable.

Yet, no matter how much he loathed the boy, Snape had to admit that over these three years, as he watched the boy grow, he still disliked him, but that feeling of hatred was no longer quite as sharp.

Thus, unless necessary, Snape was not keen on seeing Harry Potter, but upon seeing him, he still harbored a tiny sliver of concern.

Truly, just a tiny sliver.

He set the Wolfsbane Potion down, caught the scent of the potion bottle nearby, and a mocking smile appeared on his face.

He had smelled what it was.

"Using your own memories?"

He asked "Lupin," "Are you comforting him, Lupin? Comforting a thirteen-year-old child?"

He was dripping with sarcasm, his tone strange.

"This is not comfort, Severus. I merely let him see James and Lily. Would you like some?"

Du said, looking at Snape. Snape turned and walked away quickly, not answering Du's words.

Before leaving, he cast one last glance at the wobbling wardrobe.

Dewey paid Snape no mind. He stowed away the Wolfsbane Potion, intending to give it to the real Lupin. If his calculations were correct, Lupin would be "ill" for the next week or so and unable to teach classes.

For him, this was an exceptionally good thing.

Ample time and an undisturbed space were exactly what he needed to get things done.

What mattered now was the Purple Card, the Purple Card, the Purple Card! The things he planned to do next were bold and risky, fun yet terrifying; without sufficient strength, he would be wiped out with ease.

As for having Snape teach Harry, that was actually quite simple; he could deliberate on it when he returned.

If Harry learned Snape's magic, it was effectively the same as Dewey learning it himself.

Dewey walked over and shut the door. With no uninvited guests to disturb them, he decided to put Harry through extra training tonight.

Time was running out for Dewey and Harry.

Dewey took a sip of the Polyjuice Potion and waited for Harry to wake up. He saw the joy and delight radiating from Harry, inside and out.

Facing Dewey, Harry seemed about to speak.

Dewey did not give him the time to do so.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the wardrobe.

Alohomora.

He opened the wardrobe that held the Boggart.

The Boggart drifted out, transforming into the shape of a Dementor.

"Harry, use Expecto Patronum!"

A chilling wind engulfed the room. Dewey stepped back quickly, clearing the dueling ground.

At this moment, only Harry Potter remained in the arena, along with the "Dementor" that was closing in!