Your Normal is Too Abnormal

"Expecto Patronum!"

Harry Potter's desperate cry echoed through the deserted corridor. As he shouted, a silvery-white light burst from the window, illuminating the ancient bricks outside the castle.

Someone looked up, catching sight of the light spilling from the window.

"Expecto Patronum..."

In the darkness, that figure vanished into the shadows.

Although he wanted to see what Harry Potter's Patronus was, he knew better than to observe such things.

He turned and disappeared into the potions storeroom.

Inside the classroom, a silvery-white stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand, effortlessly forcing back the advancing Dementor and driving it into the wardrobe.

Harry turned around, pleasantly surprised to see a joyful face.

It was Professor Lupin.

The joy on Lupin's face could not be faked.

Neither could the slight glimmer of tears in the corners of his eyes.

Professor Lupin clapped, gently wiping the moisture from his eyes as he said, "Wonderful, simply wonderful, Harry. You truly didn't disappoint me. You are the best."

He walked over, crouched down, and gently hugged Harry.

Every movement was exceptionally tender, as if he were holding a fragile piece of porcelain.

Harry was momentarily overwhelmed, but he still remembered the training from these past few days—the habit of closing the door behind him.

With his Patronus having forced the Boggart into the wardrobe, Harry waved his wand and shut the wardrobe doors.

The silvery-white stag circled them once before finally dissipating.

He hesitated, wanting to return Professor Lupin's hug, but before he could, the professor pulled away.

Harry felt a pang of disappointment.

Professor Lupin stood up and said to him, "Go back now, Harry. You've done well enough; get a good night's sleep. For the next week—well, to be precise, starting the day after tomorrow—you might not see me. If anything comes up, remember to find me, but not next Wednesday or Thursday, understand? If it's an emergency, you can go to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall."

Dewey patted his head as he spoke.

Harry remained dazed. He followed the professor, subconsciously using magic to levitate the wardrobe toward the Staff Room. His mind was a chaotic mess the entire way, completely intoxicated by his success. Only ten minutes ago, he had been a young wizard who had exhausted all his strength and magic, nearly fainting; now, not only had he cast the Patronus Charm, but he was continuing to use magic to transport the wardrobe. His control over his magic had reached a new height.

A change that had happened without him even noticing.

"Alright, thank you, Harry. Thank you for your help."

The Staff Room was empty now; the school's professors had their own matters to attend to at night. Dewey instructed Harry to place the wardrobe in the deepest corner of the room, stuck a note on it reading [Boggart, Teaching Aid], and waved his hand, signaling for Harry to leave.

Harry walked back in a trance. As he neared the Hogwarts common room, he spotted Hermione carrying a thick stack of books.

Hermione looked so busy she could barely keep her feet on the ground. Harry called her name several times before she finally reacted.

"What's wrong? You look distracted."

Harry asked, and Hermione looked at him, flustered. "Harry, why are you here? It's so late, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

She subconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear, looking even more agitated.

Harry glanced at the time suspiciously. It was 9:30 PM—too early for him to be sleeping, and too early for Hermione to be heading to her dormitory. Seeing Harry's strange look, Hermione immediately realized her mistake. She set the books down and apologized, "I'm sorry, Harry. I've just been so busy lately."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Harry said. Truth be told, both he and Hermione had been so swamped lately that they had neglected their mutual friend, Ron. Ron couldn't find either of them all day and was nearly at his wit's end.

Seeing Hermione apologize, Harry didn't feel like he was doing any better himself.

Hermione looked at Harry's exhausted yet determined expression and couldn't help but say, "Harry, have you been going to Professor Lupin's special training again?"

"Yes, Hermione!" At the mention of this, Harry grew excited. He wanted to tell her that he had mastered the Patronus Charm, but Hermione interrupted him. Her expression grew complicated as she said, "Harry, from now on, don't be alone with Professor Lupin. Keep your distance."

Harry's eyes widened at her words.

"Why?"

He demanded loudly. Hermione opened her mouth, but in the end, she said nothing.

"I have things to do. I'm leaving."

Hermione lowered her head and hurried away.

Harry blocked her path.

He felt that Hermione was hiding something from him.

And it might have something to do with Professor Lupin.

"What is wrong with you, Hermione?"

He questioned Hermione, for it was clear that her words had touched a nerve with Harry.

He had come to view Lupin as an emotional surrogate, so for Hermione to speak in such a way was, in effect, to slander Professor Lupin.

They had been close friends for such a long time.

The posture and tone Hermione adopted when she spoke gave Harry a sinking feeling.

He wanted to know what Hermione knew.

Holding the Wolfsbane Potion, Dewey entered the trunk. He took out the potion and considerately fed it to Lupin.

"What is this?"

Before drinking, Lupin asked a question. A week had passed since his last outburst, and his temper had nearly burned out.

He had lost his temper with Dewey three times in total, only to find that such emotions were entirely futile. The man across from him simply did not care about his attitude; every time he came downstairs, he would ramble on incessantly, saying many things that sounded truly hair-raising.

Dewey spoke without logic, devoid of any cause or effect. Most of the time, he would bring books borrowed from the school library and read them earnestly. There were many books at his feet, most of which were not restricted.

They were the most ordinary books, the kind any student could borrow.

He read them with the focus of a Muggle who had never seen a book before, and if he had any questions, he would even ask Lupin.

Lupin did not know how many times he had asked what Dewey was actually trying to do, but Dewey never answered. Today was no different.

With a cup of black tea so cloyingly sweet that Lupin felt phlegm rising just from the scent, and a book in hand, Dewey stayed there for an hour.

After forcing the Wolfsbane Potion down Lupin's throat, he crossed his legs and returned to his serious reading. Once finished, he picked up a stack of Daily Prophet newspapers—a subscription he paid for himself, from which he could glean the information he desired.

He paid for them with his own salary.

Because he spent his own money, they seemed especially precious.

Dewey read through the papers carefully, folded the few he needed, tucked them into his pocket, and prepared to leave.

Lupin felt uneasy.

Because today, the man was acting far too normally, to the point of abnormality.

It was so unlike Dewey's usual character; he was so composed that Lupin couldn't tell if he had truly gone mad.

"What exactly are you doing today?"

Lupin asked before he could leave. Dewey did not answer. He raised his wand, smiled at Lupin, and said, "Goodnight. I wish you a pleasant evening, Professor Lupin."

Before Lupin could respond, he was struck by a Stupefy and knocked unconscious.

Dewey walked over, picked up a White Card from the floor, and wore an expression that suggested he had expected as much.

It seemed Lupin did not often use high-level magic.

Dewey returned to his bedroom and curled up on the floor, clutching his head like an infant.

Soon, he fell into a nightmare.

An ancient castle, Dementors drifting to and fro, monsters with featureless faces.

The nightmare raged on, sweat pouring down like rain!

Dewey's eyes snapped open, his heart racing.

He took a sip of a potion and shoved a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

His undergarments were soaked through with sweat. He touched his damp clothes, his face devoid of expression.

He was used to it.

He pulled out the Daily Prophet again, reading the news word for word, then brought out the Marauder's Map. He still could not find the whereabouts of Peter Pettigrew.

How interesting.

Dewey revealed a strange, ferocious expression, though it vanished in an instant. He felt a fire burning in his heart; if this fire were not extinguished, he would blow up Hogwarts.

Truly blow up Hogwarts.

Even if he were discovered and killed for it, he needed to vent this destruction.

Exhaling a long breath, Dewey did not extinguish the flames in his heart; he no longer resisted the pain.

As long as he could feel that he was still alive, it was enough.

He wrapped himself in his clothes and lay back down on the floor.

He had been a professor for long enough.

He needed to find a time to properly unleash the beast within.

Thinking of this, he pointed his wand at himself.

Should it be Avada Kedavra, or Stupefy?

He asked himself.

Then, he cast Avada Kedavra.

When the Avada Kedavra appeared, he tilted his head slightly to avoid it; the green curse grazed his ear and struck the wall, carving out a small pit.

He stared at the hole, his mouth splitting into a silent, joyful grin.

Once the laughter subsided, Dewey discarded his wand and curled back up.

The night passed just like that.

Early the next morning, he appeared in the Staff Room, looking utterly exhausted.

Three professors were inside. Snape glanced at the weary-looking Lupin, sneered, and drawled, "Oh, Lupin? I assumed you would be slinking away in your bed, curtains drawn, to endure this difficult time."

"I've come to hand over my duties."

Dewey said, "I remember exactly where the children are in their studies, so, Professor Severus..."

"No, no. You should go back to your bed and wait out your torment; I have no need of you."

Severus stood up and said, "It is not your place to dictate how I educate my students. You mediocre... professor."

He spat the final word directly into Dewey's ear before turning on his heel and leaving.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Binns looked rather awkward.

Dewey felt nothing at all regarding this.

He looked at the two remaining professors and said breezily, "Well, the two of you, I'm heading to Hogsmeade Village. I'm going to Honeydukes to buy some sweets to reward Harry. Did you know? Harry learned the Patronus Charm in just one week!

Is there anything you need? I can bring it back for you."

The way he boasted about Harry was exactly like someone bragging about a favorite junior—a son, for instance.

Professor Flitwick let out a cheer.

Professor Binns nodded in gratification; for a thirteen-year-old to learn the Patronus Charm was not the work of a top-tier prodigy, but it was certainly impressive.

They felt happy for Harry as well.

As "Professor Lupin" was about to leave, Professor Binns thanked him for offering to bring things back, as did Professor Flitwick.

Dewey smiled at them easily and left Hogwarts.

He was not an underage wizard; he did not need a guardian's permission to visit Hogsmeade Village.