Why not use the genuine article?

"To the Department of Mysteries?"

Gavin looked at Dumbledore across from him.

"What did he want with me? Was he trying to study me?"

"Croaker is indeed very interested in what happened to you."

Dumbledore nodded calmly and said gently:

"After the Time-Turner shattered, he restored the core fragments, but he still couldn't figure out where you were thrown to or how you returned unharmed. So as soon as he heard you were awake, he wrote to me."

Gavin quickly calculated in his mind.

Since Croaker received the invitation formally through Dumbledore, there shouldn't be any security issues; he wouldn't be so likely to be sliced into pieces as soon as he entered.

Moreover, he was also very interested in the problems he had.

This journey to the parallel world indirectly explained many issues, while also bringing him more new questions.

Time is one of the most interesting variables in physics.

What exactly it is, where it comes from, and where it is going has always been a topic of endless debate. From Newton, Einstein, and Heisenberg to Hawking, every physicist's research has had to address it.

No one can be truly certain whether time itself is real.

However, now he can study it from another angle, from the angle of magic.

How could this not excite him?

Meanwhile, he had long been itching to visit the Department of Mysteries, the place that housed the Time Hall, the Hall of Prophecy, and countless ancient treasures.

If you encounter an unreasonable person, it will be convenient for you to take action yourself.

Perhaps I should take this opportunity to prepare two larger, Undetectable Extension Charm, just in case I need to carry things?

"Gavin? Gavin?"

Dumbledore noticed he was lost in thought and called his name twice. Thinking he had some concerns, he spoke gently:

"If you don't want to go, I can--"

"Go, you must go."

After Gavin came to his senses, he readily agreed, even seeming somewhat impatient.

When can I come to visit—I mean, to move in?

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore had been completely composed, suddenly paused in his smile.

The old headmaster touched his nose, a rare hint of embarrassment on his face:

"Well... it's hard to say exactly when it will happen; we may have to wait a while longer."

Gavin was somewhat puzzled. "Didn't he write to us immediately? Can't we just go directly?"

"He was just writing to explore the possibilities," Dumbledore vaguely, his gaze drifting unconsciously to the side. "As for the specific time of reception, they still need some preparation on their end—"

"What do you mean we still need to prepare? Those are just excuses!"

Phineas Black, whose portrait was framed on the wall, couldn't hold back any longer and interrupted him with a sneer, while looking at Gavin with excitement:

"Kid, if you knew what he was doing in the Department of Mysteries, you wouldn't ask such a stupid question."

"Phineas." Dumbledore immediately coughed lightly.

However, Headmaster Black was completely unmoved, leaning against the carved picture frame with his arms crossed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

"You've done something this big, what's there to hide? Gu Xiaogui, let me tell you, three weeks ago he almost wrecked the entire Department of Mysteries while looking for you! They're still rebuilding the ninth basement level right now!"

"Ah?"

Gavin turned his head and looked in shock at the white-bearded old man behind the desk who was holding a cup of Black Tea and looked slightly guilty.

Meeting Gavin's gaze, Dumbledore calmly sipped his Black Tea.

"Phineas is exaggerating; it was just a minor accident."

"A minor accident? Ha, you call that a minor accident?!"

Headmaster Black suddenly became animated, leaning forward and gesturing wildly with spittle flying:

"Kid, the Department of Mysteries is the most unique institution in all of the United Kingdom. It was even established before the Ministry of Magic. The Unspeakable inside don't even respect Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic. They're all incredibly arrogant!"

" On Albus's very first day, with a broken chain around his neck, some clueless fool thought Albus was getting in their way and made sarcastic remarks about him—"

"What are you faking? If he truly cared for his students this much, he wouldn't be all alone now, destined to die a lonely old age! Maybe the people around him were all deliberately killed by him!"

Gavin's lips twitched.

This is the real Champion.

Did Godric Gryffindor understand what courage truly meant?

He glanced at Dumbledore, who was still smiling across from him, and a pressing question suddenly popped into his mind:

Who dared to unleash their ultimate attack right in front of this White Wizard —is that Champion still alive?

Black in the picture frame continued, his tone rising and falling, spitting as he spoke:

"Good heavens, the moment that idiot finished speaking, there was a deafening roar! Everything on the ninth basement level of the Ministry of Magic exploded! The scene was truly breathtaking, a complete cataclysm! Thousands of clocks flew everywhere, twelve large black doors and the rotating stone wall crumbled at their base, and even the chandelier in the Auror Office upstairs was shaken down, balding three Aurors! Within a hundred feet, there was flying dust and howling ghosts—"

Gavin became increasingly uneasy as he listened.

Why does this art style sound so strange? And--

Where did the dark clouds and sandstorms come from on the ninth underground level?

"Wait, Headmaster Black," Gavin couldn't help but raise his hand to interrupt, "Did you see this with your own eyes? I don't recall having a portrait of you under the Ministry of Magic."

Headmaster Black was gesturing confidently within the picture frame, suddenly froze.

The old man hesitated for two seconds, his outstretched hand still outstretched. His goatee twitched, but he still stiffened his neck and said firmly:

"I... I only heard it from other portraits in the Ministry of Ministry of Magic corridors! How could it be false?!"

Could that portrait be of Shan Tianfang?

After saying that, Black became increasingly agitated and glared at him, scolding him with displeasure:

"What's wrong with you, child?! I'm telling you about your headmaster's heroic deeds, and you're not paying attention at all? This is the glory of Hogwarts!"

Indeed, Kobe and I combined for 81 points; the glory is ours.

Gavin coughed lightly, glanced at Dumbledore, and decided not to bother with a secondhand storyteller.

"Alright, Phineas, I think Mr. Gu has understood your good intentions."

Dumbledore shook his head helplessly and stepped in to finish the conversation:

"It's just a minor incident; they'll fix it quickly."

Upon hearing this, Headmaster Black immediately retorted loudly:

"What minor incident?! I heard that some of the damage caused by your Magic influence was so severe that even Thor Croaker couldn't reverse it with his own 'Reverse-Time Charm'! Kid, if you can't even fix the Reverse-Time Charm in the Time Hall, you know how terrible that scene was, right?! And I also heard that that foul-mouthed Unspeakable— "

"Phineas."

Dumbledore's voice deepened, and a flash of white light appeared on his Half-moon Spectacles.

Headmaster Black shrank back, pursed his lips, and muttered under his breath:

"Tch, why are you still angry? Once you've done it, don't be afraid of what others will say..."

Dumbledore didn't give him a chance to continue, and simply waved his hand dismissively.

In the two adjacent picture frames, the chubby Headmaster Dippet and the top-hatted Headmaster Fortescue immediately understood and flipped over the frames, rushing in from either side to grab Phineas, covering his mouth and dragging him behind a screen deep within the canvas.

"Ugh! Let me go—ugh!"

Silence finally returned to the wall.

Dumbledore, as if nothing had happened, picked up his teacup and smiled gently at Gavin:

"Since you've agreed, I'll reply to him. I'll let you know when he's finished with his work, and then I'll go with you."

Gavin looked at Dumbledore, who was smiling across from him, and winked.

To be honest, he thought it would be quite good to go and participate in the Department of Mysteries ' "post-war reconstruction work" now, if possible.

It's a good opportunity to take the opportunity to admire Professor Dumbledore's impressive feat of turning the nine underground levels into ruins.

However, seeing that the other party was unwilling to mention it, Gavin wisely swallowed his words.

Only then did he remember his purpose, took a step forward, and extended his right hand to get to the point:

"Before that, Professor, there's something I need your help with—that Ruby Ring should be fully refilled by now, right? Can I have it back?"

Dumbledore were holding Sherbet Lemon, froze in mid-air.

There was a two-second silence in the office.

The old principal looked him up and down strangely through his Half-moon Spectacles:

"Gavin, if my memory serves Poppy right—you were only allowed to leave the Hospital Wing at eight o'clock yesterday morning, right?"

"That's right," Gavin sincerely, "Madam Pomfrey examined me three times and said I'm recovering very well."

"And then, right after that, at the welcome dinner yesterday evening, in front of hundreds of teachers and students, you transformed Mr. Malfoy into a young Slytherin."

"That was a clinical medical miracle that helped him treat paralysis in his right arm, Professor."

Gavin withdrew his hand and shrugged.

"So many people in the school can testify that my formula works very well; it's even been published in the Daily Prophet."

"Lucius clearly doesn't agree with your clinical approach."

Dumbledore pointed to an urgent Parchment letter on the corner of the table, its sealing wax almost Transfiguration, and sighed.

"Just half an hour ago, his Owl nearly smashed my office window. Lucius was furious in his letter and formally motioned the Board of Governors to expel you immediately."

"Fire me? If that's too much trouble for you, I'm fine with that."

Gavin blinked, his face showing no sign of nervousness, but rather a hint of eagerness.

"If I finish the formalities today, will Professor Snape's month-long confinement be waived as well? I can go back to my dorm, pack my things, and leave."

Getting fired is great! After that, you can do whatever you want.

From then on, the sky and sea were vast, Seagulls flew freely.

Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly, and he shook his head:

"Forget about escaping solitary confinement, Gavin. Severus has already prepared fifty pounds of Flobberworm for you to clean."

How many?

Gavin could hardly believe his ears.

One pound would be enough for the whole school for months. Is Snape planning to open a Caterpillars shop?

"Besides, I've already blocked this motion for you--"

Dumbledore looked at him with a smile.

"As long as I remain the headmaster of Hogwarts, I will never allow any of my students to be forced to leave the school because of something like this."

Gavin paused for a moment, looking the old man up and down with some surprise.

"How can you be so assertive? Shouldn't the school listen to the board of directors?"

Suddenly remembering something, Gavin looked a little puzzled.

"That's not right. When Lucius was forcing Buckbeak to be executed a while ago, why didn't you stop him?"

"Ahem, that matter involves the Ministry of Magic's Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, so the situation is a bit different."

Dumbledore picked up his teacup, took a sip, and a smile flickered behind his Half-moon Spectacles before he slowly added the second half of the truth:

"And to be honest, the fact that it was rejected so decisively this time wasn't entirely my doing. It was mainly thanks to the Rowle Family's considerable influence on the Board of Governors. Alaric was the first to reply this morning, rejecting the motion, and also asked Lucius for the medical fees for his son's right arm rehabilitation."

The old principal shrugged, his tone relaxed:

"Moreover, Lucius has already exhausted all the leverage he could exert over the Board of Governors and committees in order to push through Buckbeak's case."

"Last night, Mr. Draco publicly ripped off his bandages and hugged Mr. Goyle, and the photo even made the front page this morning. The School Governor are already unhappy because they were fooled by a fake medical report, and most of them naturally don't want to offend the Rowle family for nothing just to expel you."

There was a two-second silence in the office.

After listening expressionlessly, Gavin noticed a problem:

"... You mean Lucius was willing to go to great lengths and make deals to kill Buckbeak, but when it came to firing me, he wouldn't even offer more money?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Judging from the results, it seems so."

Gavin's face instantly darkened.

So, in the eyes of the Malfoy family and the board of directors, his current reputation and status are even lower than that bird, Buckbeak?

Gavin fell into deep thought.

Should I kill a couple of board members to boost my reputation?

"And, regarding that Buckbeak incident..."

Behind his desk, Dumbledore picked up his Black Tea and took another sip, a meaningful smile flashing behind his Half-moon Spectacles.

"I always felt that once you woke up, you would definitely be able to find a solution, so I thought it might be better to leave it to you."

Gavin was immediately startled.

He slowly raised his head and looked at the gentle-looking old man opposite him. Several previously unrelated clues suddenly connected in his mind.

With Dumbledore's influence, would it really take three whole weeks to expose Malfoy's flawed fake injury diagnosis?

If you were to have any of the most authoritative Healers at St. Mungo's's Hospital examine the case again, that little trick would be exposed on the spot.

But he remained inactive, watching helplessly as Lucius jumped around, throwing all the leverage the Malfoy family had accumulated over the years in the Board of Governors and committees at Buckbeak.

At the same time, she watched Hagrid, Harry, and Ron frantically trying to figure out the case, and Hermione working through the night to investigate it.

Until yesterday, the moment he was discharged from the hospital, he casually used a Potions to make Malfoy tear off his bandages in front of everyone in the Great Hall.

The fake injury was exposed without any further investigation. Hermione was no longer angry with him, Hagrid and Harry were extremely grateful to him, and Lucius had wasted all his efforts, having already exhausted all his leverage to expel him today.

Taking advantage of Lucius's weakened state, they aimed to influence the board to pass decisions they approved.

Killing four birds with one stone --

No, there might be five, six, seven, or eight more birds.

He said he wanted to resolve the issue himself, and that he might not be the only candidate; Harry might also be part of the plan.

If Harry ultimately resolves the issue, this will give Harry room to develop his skills, while also allowing Hermione to experience the real wizarding world earlier.

At the same time, if he ultimately solves the problem himself, he won't have time to mess around or waste his energy while in solitary confinement, and he'll also develop a stronger bond with Harry.

The office was so quiet that only the flickering fire in the Fireplace could be heard.

Gavin narrowed his eyes as he stared at Dumbledore, who was smilingly fiddling with Cockroach Clusters across from him.

The White Wizard is unfathomable.

"So, this was all arranged by you beforehand?"

Dumbledore looked up, bewildered. "Arrange what?"

"A fake diagnosis, Buckbeak, Lucius's bargaining chip."

"Oh, you mean that? You seem to be overthinking it."

The old headmaster blinked his blue eyes, looking utterly innocent.

"I'm just an old man who's getting on in years and a little slow on his feet, Gavin."

After saying that, he smiled and picked up a Cockroach Clusters from the silver dish, popped it into his mouth, and crunched it.

Gavin stared at him for a few seconds.

Haha, I don't believe you for a second.

But since that's the case, then he shouldn't blame himself for being impolite; he has no obligation to be taken advantage of.

Gavin leaned forward and tapped his finger lightly on the table:

"In that case, can you give me back the Ring you promised before?"

Dumbledore stopped fiddling with the Cockroach Clusters.

He pushed the silver Sweets dish aside half an inch, interlaced his fingers in front of his chin, and quietly looked at Gavin with his blue eyes behind his Half-moon Spectacles:

"Gavin, you just left the Hospital Wing yesterday morning, why are you in such a hurry to use the Philosopher's Stone today?"

"For Cordelia."

Gavin looked at him intently:

"I want to research the Elixir of Life; I suspect it requires Philosopher's Stone."

Upon hearing Cordelia's name, Dumbledore's gaze softened slightly, but he still gently shook his head.

"Severus and I are working together to figure out what to do about Cordelia. Once we have a reliable solution, I can use the Ring to treat her at any time. We can't leave it to you to try now."

Gavin frowned:

"But you promised to replenish the Ring's power one more time before school started; that's our agreement. If you're worried, I can do it right under your nose, just like last time."

The moment those words were spoken, silence fell behind the desk.

Dumbledore's hand, holding the teacup, froze in mid-air.

The gentle smile on the old man's face gradually faded as he slowly placed the white porcelain teacup back into the saucer, making a very soft, crisp sound.

"You said the same thing here last time, Gavin."

Dumbledore's voice was calm, even softer than before, yet it carried an unyielding weight:

"I was standing less than three feet away from you, the other end of the gold chain still around my neck. But in the end, all I could do was stand on the empty tower top, clutching half the broken chain, watching you vanish into thin air before my eyes for twenty-one whole days, and there was nothing I could do."

"I haven't felt this powerless in a long time, but since you enrolled three years ago, it's happened about once a year on average."

He gazed silently at Gavin through his glasses, sighed, and slowly said:

"So please forgive me for being an old man; I really don't want to experience that kind of accident again. I can't give you the Ring until I'm sure you won't put yourself in unknown dangers again."

Gavin stared at him silently, not giving an inch.

"I can't just sit here and wait. If you don't agree, I'll have to look for other solutions, such as—"

Gavin looked at the old man.

"Create a Philosopher's Stone."

"..."

An old man and a young man faced off silently across Oak desk.

The air was so tense that even the portraits on the wall dared not utter a sound.

The standoff lasted a full ten seconds.

Dumbledore looked into the boy's determined eyes, finally sighed, and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright, I believe you might actually do it, craft a Philosopher's Stone? Heh."

Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head:

"If it were anyone else, I would definitely think he was joking, but since you said it, I have to take it seriously. I even think you might actually be able to do it."

The old headmaster held up one finger, staring intently at Gavin through his glasses.

"I can restore the power within the Ruby. But I have one condition for getting the Ring."

Gavin's eyes lit up immediately.

"You said."

"From today until the start of the Christmas holidays-- "

Dumbledore:

"You must attend classes properly and not cause any incidents that would alert the Hospital Wing or the Ministry of Magic. Once the Christmas holidays arrive, I will personally give you the powerful Ring as a Christmas present."

"Of course, reciprocity is key," Dumbledore added. "If you would be so kind as to reciprocate with a pair of thick wool socks, I would be very pleased."

"You're giving me my things as a gift? And you expect me to pay for a pair of socks too?"

Gavin pouted, somewhat displeased.

"Aren't you being a bit too frugal?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Then how about we just forget about it?"

"Wait a moment--"

Gavin quickly calculated in his mind.

There are only two months left until the Christmas holidays.

During this time, he was supposed to be compressing the white Magic Whirlpool and following up on Lupin's Werewolf Transfiguration. Both things were going very smoothly, and there was no way anything could go wrong.

Being a model student for just over two months guarantees you a fully charged Philosopher's Stone Ring.

Good deal.

"How exactly is 'alarmed' defined?" Gavin inquired meticulously. "For example, what if something happened, but neither the Ministry of Magic nor you noticed—"

"Gavin!"

"Just kidding." Gavin immediately lowered his finger. "Deal."

After saying that, he got up and walked towards the door.

We had only gone halfway when a commotion suddenly broke out behind the screen in the picture frame on the wall.

Phineas Nigellus managed to pry half his head out from under Headmaster Dippet's armpit, his goatee askew to one side:

"Kid! I'm not finished yet! That foul-mouthed Unspeakable later--"

A fat hand reached out from behind and slapped his mouth shut.

"Mmm!"

Half of his head was dragged back in.

Dumbledore didn't even look up, casually refilling his cup of Black Tea.

Gavin's lips twitched, he looked away, walked to the door and grasped the brass doorknob.

"Oh, right, Gavin, there's one more thing."

Dumbledore's voice drifted from behind, tinged with a hint of nonchalance:

"Since you just said that you so desperately want to prove your safety and reliability within the professor's sight... then I'm sure you won't refuse this."

Gavin's fingers, gripping the doorknob, froze.

My heart skipped a beat, and a sense of Grim washed over me.

I suddenly have this feeling that I was treated like a free beast of burden by my mentor in a past life.

He slowly turned his head.

Dumbledore opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of Parchment with writing already on it, and cheerfully pushed it to the corner of the table:

"Remus has been busy with practical classes for all grades lately, so he's been quite overwhelmed. Starting today, I'd like to formally hire you as the teaching assistant for Defense Against the Dark Arts class, to assist Remus with classroom demonstrations, guide students, and handle some teaching aids and miscellaneous tasks."

Gavin's eyelids twitched twice:

"... Professor, I was just punished by Professor Snape with a month of confinement last night. I have to go to the basement every night to deal with Caterpillars, so I'm afraid I won't have time—"

"It's alright, I've already spoken to Severus."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"The teaching assistant's work is all during the day, perfectly avoiding your evening detention. Go ahead, Mr. Teaching Assistant, Remus needs your help with his afternoon classes."

Gavin looked at Dumbledore's old face, which was grinning like a chrysanthemum, and his lips twitched.

Good heavens, this is impossible to guard against!

This way, they can legitimately keep him under their noses and also get free labor.

Compared to this white wizard, those bosses in Silicon Valley who worked 996 in their past lives were as innocent as newborn babies.

"I--"

"This is all for Miss Rowle, dear Gavin." Dumbledore a smile. "Miss Rowle has done so much for you, you wouldn't refuse such a small thing, would you?"

"..."

Gavin hesitated; it did seem to be the fastest way at the moment.

"... Let me make this clear first, it's only for these two months; I won't have time after that."

"Oh, of course."

Dumbledore finally smiled with satisfaction, then picked up another Sherbet Lemon and put it in his mouth.

Gavin pursed his lips, turned around, and opened the heavy Oak Door.

He had just stepped one foot out of the threshold when he stopped again.

Champion of the warrior from the Department of Mysteries flashed through my mind, along with that elderly love-struck fool from another world, wiping his glasses and saying he had finally resolved his inner conflict.

Perhaps I should try to use love to influence this heartless old man in front of me?

Have you run out of tricks?

It's my turn.

Gavin hesitated for two seconds, gripping the doorknob, then stopped and half-turned to look behind the desk:

"By the way, Professor, there's something I haven't told you yet."

"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked up at him with a smile. "What is it? Please speak."

"In another world, beneath the loose floorboards of Ariana's room in the old house in Godric's Hollow, lies a diary she left behind."

Gavin paused, trying to make his tone sound like he was casually relaying a statement:

"She wrote in there that seeing you happy that summer was the happiest time of her life. She never blamed you. I think Ariana in this world probably feels the same way. Maybe you can go back and visit her sometime."

Absolute silence fell behind the desk.

But the expected shocked or flustered reaction did not occur.

Dumbledore simply watched him quietly, his blue eyes behind his Half-moon Spectacles still gentle, and the corners of his mouth even curved slightly.

After a while, he nodded slightly.

"I understand. Thank you, Gavin."

Gavin frowned almost imperceptibly.

Isn't this reaction a bit too calm?

It's quite different from what I imagined.

However, seeing the old man's reluctance to talk, he didn't say anything more, waved goodbye to Dumbledore, stepped out the door, and closed the door behind him.

Click.

The heavy Oak Doors closed gently, shutting out the footsteps in the corridor.

The spacious Circular Office fell silent again.

Dumbledore sat in the chair for a moment.

After an unknown amount of time, he finally propped himself up with his hands, slowly stood up, and walked to the tall Walnut Wood bookcase at the corner.

He stretched out his slightly aged fingers, parted the innermost row of ancient books, and took out a palm-sized old Diary with frayed edges from Hidden Compartment.

Clearly, it has been read countless times.

Sunlight fell on the yellowed cover, illuminating the crooked yet delicate handwriting.

The old man lowered his head, his fingertips gently tracing the cover of the Diary. After a long while, he let out a sigh so soft it was almost inaudible.

"That's precisely why... I can't forgive myself."

Gavin had initially held onto a sliver of hope, thinking that being a "teaching assistant" wasn't a big deal, and that he probably wouldn't be of much help to Lupin given his level of expertise.

It wasn't until the afternoon's Defense Against the Dark Arts class began that he realized he was overthinking things.

What kind of technical consultant is he? He's clearly just a donkey pulling a millstone in the production team.

As soon as he entered the classroom, Lupin announced to the whole class with a smile that Gavin would be the teaching assistant, and casually stuffed a thick stack of lecture notes into Gavin's arms.

After distributing the handouts, we moved the protective padding.

After moving the cushions, you still have to wander around the classroom during group practice, trying to straighten a Wand that's about to poke into your nostril.

The most outrageous part was the demonstration.

"Come on, everyone, pay attention to the timing of the wrist rotation--"

Lupin clapped his hands at the front of the class, then turned to look at the teaching assistant beside him:

"Gavin, please step half a step to the left. Yes, raise your right hand a little higher, and keep it still so the students in the back can see the angle at which the Disarming Charm grazed the tip of your staff."

Gavin stood Wand in the center of the podium for a full five minutes, wand in hand.

Rolf and Ron, sitting in the first row, bit their lips hard, their faces turning Liver-Colored from trying to suppress their laughter.

Only after Gavin glanced at them expressionlessly did they pretend to be nonchalant and avoid his gaze.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

After the students had all left, Lupin turned around and said to Gavin with a look of apology:

"Thank you so much today, Gavin. Finally, could you please take the wardrobe containing Boggart back to the storage room next door? That would finish your work for today."

Gavin let out a breath.

Finally, I can get off work.

It's time to go have dinner.

After dinner, he can go to solitary confinement, and then he can continue to try compressing Magic.

He has tried many times recently, but he still hasn't found a way to cultivate the "Primordial Qi" feeling that Gavin had, so he is in a hurry to leave work.

He walked to the corner, drew his Wand, aimed it at the Oak wardrobe where the Boggart was still rattling around inside, and cast the Levitation Charm.

Because the door frame of the adjacent storage room was too narrow, Gavin had to control the wardrobe, tilting it at a 45-degree angle in mid-air, and slowly wed it over the door frame.

Once the cabinet was on the ground in the corner, he closed the door and locked it with a Copper Lock.

Brushing the dust off his hands, Gavin walked back to the classroom, picked up his backpack, and just as he slung it over his shoulder...

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the classroom wasn't actually empty.

Beside the podium, Harry stood alone, his hands gripping his Wand tightly.

"Professor Lupin," Harry took a deep breath, looked up at Lupin, and said with a hint of nervousness in his eyes, "I want to try the Patronus Charm again today."

Gavin was startled and quickly prepared to leave. He crouched down, entered Tortoise-Breathing, and moved towards the door as silently as possible.

"Have you been practicing in the dorm these past few days?" Lupin asked gently.

"Yes!" Harry nodded vigorously. "When I tested it last night, I was able to reliably release a small cloud of white mist—I want to try again to see if I can withstand it against the Boggart."

"Great idea, Harry. Only spells used under real pressure truly belong to you."

Lupin readily agreed, then turned and gave the teaching assistant, who was about to slip out the door, a polite yet apologetic smile.

"Excuse me, Gavin, could you please take the Boggart out again?"

The classroom was silent for three seconds.

Gavin's foot, which had just stepped out the door, froze in mid-air.

He stared at Lupin expressionlessly for two seconds, then turned his head to glance at the narrow storage room door next to him, which he had precisely locked at a 45-degree angle a minute earlier while backing up:

"... I just put it back."

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, his hands clasped together, his sincerity impeccable, "This is the last time today, I promise."

Harry sensed the oppressive atmosphere surrounding Gavin, shrank back, and weakly raised his hand:

"Um, should I go help—"

Snap!

Gavin slammed his backpack down on the desk, his face terribly grim, and turned to walk towards the storage room.

"No need. I'm a teaching assistant, and I love my job."

Two minutes later.

The wooden door to the storage room was violently forced open.

Accompanied by the sickening screech of wood scraping together, the heavy Oak wardrobe was once again pulled out of the narrow door frame at a 45-degree angle, only this time at an extremely fast speed, like a small dump truck.

With a loud bang, the wardrobe came to a stop in the center of the classroom.

Boggart inside seemed to be dizzy from the shaking, and after several seconds he weakly bumped into the cabinet door.

To prevent Boggart from having another meltdown upon seeing him, Gavin consciously retreated to the shadows of the windowsill diagonally behind him, giving Harry the front view.

"Ready, Harry?" Lupin asked, his hand on the bronze doorknob.

Harry stood five steps away, gripped his Wand tightly, and nodded emphatically:

"Ready!"

Click.

The cabinet door popped open!

The temperature in the classroom plummeted.

A tall figure slid out, draped in a tattered black cloak. A wheezing, bellows-like sound came from beneath the cloak, and a pair of rotting, gray hands pointed straight towards—

Gavin grabbed him.

It was clearly a bit carsick and couldn't quite pinpoint the source of its fear.

Gavin rolled his eyes, conjured a large stick, and slammed it down on Boggart's head with a thud.

Boggart instantly snapped back to reality, feeling a bit aggrieved, and hissed in the voice of Dementor.

Why did you hit me?

But once he regained his senses, Boggart forgot about revenge and, finding the source of his fear, reached out his hand again to grab Harry!

It's all your fault, you little rascal!

Harry's shoulders tensed instantly, and his face turned pale.

"Call upon the Expecto Patronum!"

The first Spell was too hasty; only a tiny silver spark appeared at the tip of the staff, vanishing in an instant.

The man in the black cloak took another step closer.

"Keep your breathing steady, Harry! Don't back down!" Lupin shouted in a deep voice, "Don't look at its face, grab your happiest memory!"

Harry gritted his teeth and stopped retreating, desperately recalling the whirlwind of riding his flying Broomstick into the sky, and the image of laughing with Ron, Hermione, and Gavin. He suddenly swung his staff and roared:

"Expecto Patronum!"

Buzz--!

No longer just scattered sparks.

A thick, silvery-white mist erupted from the tip of the staff, forming a white mist barrier taller than a person, which stood firmly between Harry and Boggart.

The lunging "Dementor" collided with the white mist, its movements faltering, and it was forced back half a step.

The white mist lasted for about ten seconds before dissipating as Harry gasped for breath.

"Well done!"

Lupin stepped forward, brandished his staff, uttered "Riddikulus," and sealed the Boggart back into the wardrobe, locking it away. He then turned and pulled out a large piece of chocolate, handing it to Harry with approving eyes.

"That's amazing, Harry! The progress is incredible that you could maintain the white mist for so long while facing your fear."

"Really?" Harry's lips were still a little pale.

"Of course, it's much better than what you did on the train, isn't it, Gavin?" Lupin was seeking some validation from his teaching assistant.

But after waiting for a long time, they found that the other party did not respond.

Turning his head, he noticed Gavin's gloomy face, his eyes fixed on the chocolate in Harry's hand.

"..."

Left with no other option, Lupin could only pull out another large piece and hand it to his teaching assistant, while patting Gavin and saying thank you for your hard work.

Gavin's expression softened a bit, and he mumbled through his chocolate, "You're really good. Among all the people I've met, you're in the top three."

To date, only three people have learned the Patronus Charm from him.

Harry was the third.

"Is that so? Then I'm actually not bad?"

Harry took a big bite of chocolate, a hint of joy just appearing on his face, when Lupin's smile vanished, and he pointed to the large wardrobe behind him:

"But you must remember, Harry, you were just facing a Boggart."

Harry slowed down his chewing of the chocolate.

"Boggarts can only mimic the appearance and a superficial chill," Lupin said gravely. "When a real Dementor gets close, it will drain all the joy from your surroundings and drag you into your most desperate memories. At that point, gathering the white mist will be more than ten times more difficult than it is now."

Harry's shoulders, which had just relaxed, tensed up again, and he nervously looked up, clutching half a piece of chocolate.

"Then... if the Boggarts are that much different from true Dementors, what should I do if I actually encounter one?"

Lupin patted him on the shoulder and comforted him with a smile:

"Don't worry, as long as you practice the Spell enough in your daily life, like this, we can do it a few more times—"

Will I be able to leave work then?

He hadn't finished speaking.

Gavin's puzzled voice came from the side.

"If that's the case, why not just catch a Dementor and practice on it?"

The classroom fell into a deathly silence.

Lupin's hand, which was patting Harry's shoulder, froze in mid-air.

The half-chocolate in Harry's hand fell to the stone floor with a thud.

The two people, one big and one small, maintained the same blank expression, slowly turning their necks to stare directly at Gavin:

"... ah?"