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The morning of the new term brought an unexpected surprise for the sixth-year students: a large notice about Apparition lessons had been pinned to the common room's noticeboard the previous evening.
Severus Snape and Patrick Abbott had barely stepped into the common room when they were drawn in by a buzz of excited chatter.
"Wow!" came bursts of amazement from the crowd.
The two of them squeezed toward the noticeboard, where a throng of students had already gathered, queuing up to sign their names on the notice. Amid the pushing and shoving, Severus and Patrick managed to scrawl their signatures.
"Oh, come on, don't be daft—you can't Apparate here. Not in the castle," one student said, rolling their eyes at a friend who was gesturing wildly with excitement.
"As if anyone who's read Hogwarts: A History wouldn't know that," another replied smugly.
"Yeah, I reckon only a troll would miss that one…"
The students buzzed with eager talk about everything Apparition-related.
After a while, Severus and Patrick extricated themselves from the noisy crowd, left the dungeon, and headed to breakfast before class.
"Severus has Apparated before," Patrick announced proudly to Pandora outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Someone Side-Alonged him last year, you know?"
"I didn't know that," Pandora said with a cheerful grin. "You know more about Sev than I do."
"I've had a few Side-Along Apparitions," Severus cut in, his expression a mix of reluctance and unease. "Trust me, it's not pleasant. You wouldn't like it.
"For a moment, everything goes dark, like you're being squeezed from all sides by countless invisible hands. Your chest feels like it's bound by iron bands, and you can't breathe at all.
"It's as if your eyeballs are being pressed back into your skull, your eardrums shoved deep into your head… and then, it's like being forced through a impossibly narrow rubber tube. Only then can you finally gasp for air…"
As Severus spoke, he unconsciously mimed the sensations.
Other sixth-years overheard their conversation and crowded around, peppering Severus with curious questions about what Apparition felt like.
Mary fired off a string of questions, and as Severus answered, he glanced up and noticed Lily among the crowd.
She stood quietly, listening intently, her red hair standing out vividly in the sea of students.
Since their parting outside the Gryffindor Tower at the end of fifth year, he hadn't spoken to her for an entire term.
He had no intention of striking up a conversation just for the sake of it.
It wasn't about deliberately avoiding her or not. In Severus's mind, the girl in his memories felt different from the Lily standing before him now, as if the memory was a fleeting shadow, not quite the same person as the real one.
Perhaps it was like a saying from another life: "No one can compare to the you in my memories—not even the you of now."
Maybe he needed a chance to get to know her again.
Back to the moment, after Severus described how uncomfortable Side-Along Apparition was, the other students, far from being deterred, looked awestruck and even more eager.
Professor Grubbly-Plank cleared her throat loudly several times before the students reluctantly shuffled to their seats.
"Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!" Professor Grubbly-Plank raised her voice, her stern gaze sweeping the classroom. "Do you want to be trembling in fear when you face a Dementor and its Kiss?"
She spun around, pointing at a picture pinned to the blackboard.
In the drawing, a wizard cowered in a corner, eyes vacant, as if his soul had been drained.
"Dementors are among the foulest creatures in the world," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, her voice low and grave. She held up another picture of a Dementor for the class to see.
The creature in the image was shadowy, its decaying, mucus-slick limbs faintly visible beneath its cloak.
"They hide under their cloaks, lurking in the darkest, most wretched places. They thrive on decay and despair, draining peace, hope, and happiness from the air around them.
"Even Muggles can feel their presence, though they can't see them. When a Dementor draws near, every good feeling, every happy memory is sucked away.
"If they can, Dementors will feed on you until you're nothing but an empty shell, soulless and full of evil. After a Dementor's Kiss, all that remains are your worst experiences—an empty husk…"
"Professor," a student asked, voice trembling with fear, "I've heard they guard Azkaban?"
"Yes, they're there now," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, frowning. "That prison, built on a lonely island in the middle of the vast sea.
"Azkaban doesn't need high walls or water to keep prisoners in, because they're trapped in their own minds, unable to summon a single happy thought, let alone plan an escape.
"For centuries, the Ministry of Magic has used Dementors as Azkaban's guards, naively believing this would solve the problem once and for all."
Professor Grubbly-Plank sighed and shook her head.
"It might be unnecessary to say, but follow the law and don't end up in Azkaban.
"Over two hundred years ago, a Minister for Magic named Eldritch Diggory inspected Azkaban.
"He found the conditions so horrific—Dementors draining all joy and positive emotions—that prisoners died of despair, and most of the survivors went mad. The place had become a haven for Dementors."
"Do such monsters really exist, Professor?" Peter Pettigrew asked, his small eyes flickering with fear, his voice high and thin. "If they do, surely someone must control them?"
"I'm afraid, Peter, their existence is undeniable. They're only confined to Azkaban for now.
"As for your other question, I share Professor Dumbledore's view: Dementors have never truly been loyal to anyone. They align with whoever offers them more human victims.
"If anyone controls them, I suspect they'd sooner obey He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than the Ministry."
A collective gasp rippled through the classroom, as if an unseen Dementor lurked nearby, radiating cold.
Wormtail looked even more frightened, his body trembling slightly. He gnawed at his fingernails, visibly anxious.
"Then how do we fight them?" Lily's calm voice broke the oppressive silence. "If there's no way to stop them, I doubt they'd stay obediently in Azkaban. And what's the point of this lesson?"
Professor Grubbly-Plank nodded approvingly at Lily. She stepped down from the lectern, pacing slowly among the students.
"So far, wizards haven't found a way to destroy Dementors completely. The best we can do is drive them away temporarily.
"A wizard skilled in the Patronus Charm can summon a Patronus—a Dementor's natural enemy. It acts as a guardian, a shield between you and the Dementor."
Professor Grubbly-Plank continued, "A Patronus is a positive force, an embodiment of what Dementors feed on—hope, happiness, the will to live. But unlike a person, it cannot feel despair, so Dementors are powerless against it."
"Be warned," she added gravely, her eyes scanning each student's face, "the Patronus Charm is highly advanced magic. Many skilled wizards never master it. Only a few of you will succeed.
"And casting a Patronus in this classroom is entirely different from doing so in the face of a real Dementor."
Her warning, however, did little to dampen the students' enthusiasm. Clearly, none of them believed they'd be the ones to fail.
"What does a Patronus look like?" Patrick asked curiously.
"They usually take the form of an animal—one that resonates deeply with you," Professor Grubbly-Plank answered patiently.
"How do you conjure one?"
"Can two Patronuses be the same?"
Questions poured out, one after another, and the classroom grew lively again.
"Quiet!" Professor Grubbly-Plank returned to the lectern and rapped the desk sharply, the loud bangs silencing the room. "Each Patronus is unique to the wizard who conjures it," she said loudly. "I've never seen two identical ones.
"You need to focus your mind on a single, deeply joyful memory while casting the spell for it to work."
"The incantation is—" She cleared her throat. "Expecto Patronum! Remember, focus on your happiest moment. Now, practice freely and come to me with any questions."
The spell proved far more difficult than anyone had anticipated.
The classroom echoed with cries of "Expecto Patronum!" but most wands only twitched uselessly, producing nothing.
A few students managed faint wisps of silvery mist from their wand tips, like morning fog over a lake, but they vanished quickly.
Severus stood, racking his brain for his happiest memory.
The memories from his old life were useless and had to be discarded.
As for his past life, though it spanned most of his existence, it was filled with busyness and exhaustion. Growing up, studying, working… there was always a promise that things would get better after "this or that," but another "this or that" always waited ahead.
There had been happy moments, sure, but whether they were strong enough to summon a Patronus, he wasn't certain. Perhaps he didn't need to try.
In the end, he settled on moments from after he arrived in this world.
"Expecto Patronum," Severus mouthed silently, over and over. "Expecto Patronum."
His thoughts drifted to an old Gobstones set, then to a roughly made wallet…
Suddenly, something burst from his wand tip—a cloud of silvery mist, swirling in the air.
"Whoa, mate!" Patrick exclaimed, his face full of envy. "You actually got something!"
"You think this is enough?" Severus shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "A puff of smoke won't stop a Dementor."
"You don't seriously think we'll have to face Dementors, do you?" Patrick said, waving his wand carelessly with a nonchalant grin. "They've been stuck in Azkaban for centuries."
"Practice properly, Patrick," Severus told him. "Who knows what the future holds? Better to be prepared."
With that, he returned to sifting through every joyful moment in his mind, silently repeating the Patronus Charm.
By the end of the lesson, Severus's Patronus had evolved from shapeless mist into something more solid—a long, silvery shadow that twisted in the air.
It was oddly elongated, not quite the four-legged creature he'd expected.
"What kind of animal is that?" Patrick teased with a grin. "My long-bodied Puffskein?"
"Shut it," Severus muttered, rolling his eyes as he pocketed his wand.
Looking around, he noticed a few other students had produced wisps of silvery mist.
Pandora was making quick progress. Her Patronus was small but already had two long ears, hopping restlessly in the air.
James and Sirius had made headway too. Wisps of mist curled from their wands, forming vague beast-like shapes. James brandished his wand, showing off to anyone nearby.
Sirius, meanwhile, had tucked his wand away, leaning lazily against a desk with an air of aloof pride.
Wormtail gaped at them in awe, his jaw slack. Every time a puff of mist spurted from James's wand, he gasped and clapped enthusiastically.
Remus stood nearby, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation, his wand held limply with no movement.
Severus's gaze drifted further, landing on Lily.
What emerged from her wand wasn't shapeless mist but a dazzling, winged silver creature.
Severus squinted, trying to make it out.
Perhaps a bird? But one thing was certain—it was definitely not a doe.
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