Patronus

The next morning, at the start of the new term, the sixth-year students received a surprise: a large notice about "Apparition Lessons" had been pinned to the bulletin board the previous night.

Severus and Aber had just entered the common room when they were drawn in by a buzz of excited chatter.

"Wow!" Exclamations burst from the crowd from time to time.

The two of them squeezed toward the bulletin board as well. Students were already crowded around it, queuing up to sign their names one by one. Amid the jostling and shoving, they barely managed to get their own signatures down.

"Oh, don't be silly, you can't Apparate here—it's not possible inside the castle," a classmate couldn't help reminding a friend who was gesticulating excitedly.

"Obviously, anyone who's read Hogwarts: A History should know that, shouldn't they?" another student replied with a hint of smugness.

"Yeah, I reckon even a troll would know that much..."

The students chattered on excitedly about everything to do with Apparition.

After a while, Severus and Aber finally extricated themselves from the noisy crowd, left the dungeons, and headed off to class after breakfast.

"Severus has Apparated before," Aber said to Pandora outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, his face glowing with reflected pride. "Someone took him Side-Along last year, you know?"

"I didn't know," Pandora said cheerfully. "You know Severus better than I do."

"I had a few Side-Along Apparitions last year," Severus cut in quickly, his expression somewhat complicated. "Trust me, the feeling isn't pleasant—you wouldn't like it.

"For an instant, everything around you plunges into darkness, like countless invisible hands are squeezing you from all directions with all their might. Your chest feels as if it's bound tight by iron hoops, and you can't breathe at all.

"You even feel your eyeballs being pushed back into your skull, your eardrums crushed deep inside your head... and then, it's like being forcibly squeezed out of a very narrow rubber tube. Only then can you finally gasp for air..."

As he spoke, Severus unconsciously gestured to illustrate what it had felt like.

The other sixth-year students nearby overheard their conversation and gathered around, curiously asking Severus about the sensation of Apparition.

Mary fired off a string of questions, and as Severus answered, he happened to look up and noticed Lily among the crowd.

She stood there quietly, ears perked up as she listened intently, her red hair standing out vividly in the crowd.

Ever since they'd parted outside Gryffindor Tower at the end of fifth year, he hadn't spoken a word to her for an entire term.

Of course, he had no intention of starting a conversation out of the blue.

It wasn't a matter of deliberately avoiding her or not. In Severus's mind, he always felt that the girl in his memories was somehow different from the Lily standing before him now—as if the one in his memory was a phantom, not the same person as the real one.

Perhaps it was like a saying from a later era: "No one can compare to the you in my memory, not even the you of now."

Maybe he needed an opportunity to get to know her again.

Back to the matter at hand—after Severus told everyone that Side-Along Apparition felt very unpleasant, the students, far from losing interest, looked awestruck and even more eager.

It wasn't until Professor Gradelan deliberately cleared her throat several times, raising her voice, that they reluctantly made their way to their seats.

"Quiet! Quiet!" Professor Gradelan raised her voice again, her stern gaze sweeping across the classroom. "Do you want to be caught trembling in fear when you encounter a Dementor and face its Kiss?!"

She spun around and pointed at a picture pinned to the blackboard.

In the drawing, a wizard was curled up in a corner, his eyes vacant, as if his very soul had been drained away.

"Dementors are among the foulest things in the world."

Professor Gradelan's voice was low and grave. She picked up another picture of a Dementor to show the class.

The Dementor in the drawing was blurry, and beneath its cloak, one could vaguely make out its slimy, spotted, rotting limbs.

"They like to hide beneath their cloaks, lurking in the darkest, filthiest places. They live in rot and despair, sucking all peace, hope, and joy out of the air around them.

"Even Muggles can sense their presence, though they can't see them. When a Dementor draws near, every good feeling, every happy memory is drained from you.

"If given the chance, a Dementor will keep draining you until you become just like it... soulless and full of evil. After a Dementor's Kiss, you're left with only the worst experiences of your life—nothing but an 'empty shell'..."

"Professor," a classmate asked in a trembling, fearful voice, "I heard they're the guards of Azkaban?"

"Yes, that's where they are now," Professor Gradelan said with a frown. "That prison built on a lonely island in the middle of a vast sea.

"Azkaban has never needed high walls or seawater to keep its prisoners locked up, because the inmates are all imprisoned inside their own minds, unable to summon a single happy thought, let alone attempt an escape.

"For centuries, the Ministry of Magic has used Dementors as the guards of Azkaban prison, as if they naively believed that would solve the problem once and for all."

Professor Gradelan sighed and shook her head.

"This might be a bit redundant, but remember to obey the law and avoid being sent to Azkaban.

"Over two hundred years ago, a Minister for Magic named Edrich Diggory conducted an inspection of Azkaban.

"He found the conditions inside the prison to be appalling: the Dementors had sucked away all joy and any positive emotions.

"People were dying of despair, and most of the few who survived had gone mad. That place had become a haven for Dementors."

"Do creatures like that really exist, Professor?" asked Peter Pettigrew, his mousy-gray hair and little eyes betraying a flinch as he spoke in a high, thin voice. "If they do, someone must be controlling them, right?"

"Unfortunately, Peter, their existence is beyond doubt. They're merely confined to Azkaban for now.

"As for your other question, on that point I agree with Headmaster Dumbledore. Dementors have never truly been loyal to anyone. They only side with those who can provide them with more human victims.

"If I had to say who could control them, I think they'd be more willing to follow the Dark Lord's orders than the Ministry's."

A sharp intake of breath swept through the classroom, as if an invisible Dementor were lurking nearby, radiating an icy chill.

Wormtail looked even more frightened, his body trembling slightly. He gnawed at his fingernails, appearing anxious.

"So is there any way to destroy them?" Lily's calm voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere. "If there's no way to deal with them, I don't think Dementors would just stay put in Azkaban. And besides, what's the point of this lesson?"

Professor Gradelan nodded approvingly at Lily. She stepped down from the podium and walked slowly among the students.

"So far, wizards have not discovered a way to completely destroy Dementors. All we can do is temporarily drive them away.

"A witch or wizard who masters the Patronus Charm can conjure a Patronus, which is a Dementor's bane—a guardian that acts like a shield, standing between you and the Dementor."

Professor Gradelan continued, "A Patronus is a positive force, an external manifestation of the very things Dementors feed on—hope, happiness, the will to live—but it cannot feel despair like a real person, so Dementors have no power over it."

"Note that the Patronus Charm is a very advanced piece of magic," Professor Gradelan warned them gravely, her eyes sweeping across each face in the room. "Many accomplished wizards have failed to master it. Only a few of you will be able to learn it.

"More importantly, conjuring a Patronus in a classroom is a completely different matter from doing it when you're actually facing a Dementor."

But her warning didn't have the intended effect; instead, it dispelled the students' fear. Clearly, no one thought they would be the one who couldn't conjure a Patronus.

"What does a Patronus look like?" Aber asked curiously.

"They usually take the form of an animal—one that resonates most closely with you," Professor Gradelan answered patiently.

"How do you conjure it?"

"Can two Patronuses be the same?"

The students fired off questions one after another, and the classroom buzzed with noise again.

"Quiet!" Professor Gradelan had to return to the podium and slap the table hard. The bang bang silenced everyone once more.

"Every Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it," she said loudly. "I have never seen two identical Patronuses.

"You need to recite an incantation, and while doing so, you must concentrate all your thoughts on a particularly happy moment. Only then will the charm work."

"The incantation is—" She cleared her throat. "Expecto Patronum! Remember, think hard about your happiest memory! Now, practice freely, and come to me if you have any questions."

The difficulty of this charm exceeded everyone's expectations.

The classroom was filled with cries of "Expecto Patronum" rising and falling, but most students' wands just wobbled uselessly, producing nothing.

Only a few managed to coax a wisp of silvery gas from their wand tips, like thin mist over a lake at dawn, vanishing in moments.

Snape stood up, racking his brain for the happiest moment buried in his memories.

Without a doubt, the memories from his original body were useless—they needed to be discarded.

As for the memories of his past life, though they had occupied most of his existence, looking back now, they were mostly filled with busyness and exhaustion.

Growing up, going to school, working... someone always told him it would get better after "this or that," but there was always another "this or that" waiting ahead.

There had been happy moments, sure, but he had no confidence that those joys could summon a Patronus. Maybe it wasn't even worth trying, he thought.

In the end, he settled on certain moments from after he arrived in this world.

"Expecto Patronum," Snape repeated silently. "Expecto Patronum."

His thoughts drifted to an old set of Gobstones, then to a crudely made wallet...

Suddenly, something burst from his wand tip—it looked like a mass of silvery gas, wavering in the air.

"Whoa, mate!" Aber exclaimed, his face full of envy. "You actually conjured something."

"You think that's enough?" Snape shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "A puff of smoke won't stop a Dementor."

"You don't seriously think we'll actually have to fight Dementors, do you?" Aber waved his wand carelessly, looking unconcerned. "They've been locked up in Azkaban for centuries."

"Keep practicing, Aber," Snape told him. "Who knows what will happen later? It's always good to be prepared."

With that, he continued to replay every happy moment in his mind, silently reciting the Patronus Charm over and over.

It wasn't until near the end of class that Snape's conjured Patronus solidified from shapeless mist into something more tangible—a long, silvery shape shot from his wand tip, writhing in the air.

Though its form was elongated and a bit strange, not at all like the four-legged animal he had expected.

"What kind of animal is that?" Aber chuckled, a teasing look on his face. "My long-bodied Fuzzy-wuzzy?"

"Can't be bothered with you." Snape shot him a glare and put away his wand.

Looking around, Snape noticed that a few other students had also managed to produce silvery smoke.

Pandora was making fast progress. Her conjured Patronus was small, but it already had two long ears visible, bouncing restlessly in the air.

James and Sirius had also made great strides. Wisps of smoke rose from their wand tips, forming some kind of beast. James held his wand aloft, constantly showing off his results to those around him.

Sirius had already put his wand away, lounging lazily against the table. His expression was haughty and bored.

Wormtail stared at them with awe, his mouth hanging open. Every time a puff of white smoke came from James's wand, Wormtail gasped and clapped enthusiastically.

Lupin stood beside them, his eyes filled with frustration and helplessness, frowning at his wand without making any move.

Looking further ahead, Snape saw Lily.

What burst from her wand tip wasn't shapeless mist, but a dazzling, winged silver animal.

Snape squinted, trying hard to make out what it was.

Maybe a bird? But one thing was certain—it definitely wasn't a doe.