In the empty classroom warded with protective spells, only Lucien and Snape remained.
White text shimmered across the blackboard, summarizing Snape's lecture points one by one—magic-tuning nodes, layers of willpower intensity, depth of memory extraction…
Snape stood in the center, dressed in his usual black robes that fell motionless to the floor. Today he wore an additional traditional pointed wizard hat, pure black, perfectly matching the rest of his outfit.
"Don't just pour out emotion and magic like a beginner or an idiot would…"
Under normal circumstances, Snape would never teach the Patronus Charm this way.
The spell already demanded enormous magical power and strong positive emotion from the caster. Most people were lucky to produce a wisp of silver mist even when they gave it everything.
But was Lucien "normal"?
Apparently the first thing he needed to learn was how to restrain the spell's range and power…
Snape raised his wand. Instead of a full Patronus, a cloud of silvery-white mist flowed from the tip. Guided by his wand, the mist slowly gathered, shrinking into a sphere one moment and stretching into threads the next, almost alive.
"The Patronus Charm isn't really about the incantation itself," Snape said. "It's about the caster's inner state. The wand is only a tool. What actually matters is—"
He paused and tapped the blackboard with his wand. The words "willpower intensity" glowed with a ring of silver light.
"—your willpower. Your belief in that memory…"
Snape spoke quickly, jumping between topics with almost no warning. One second he was on magic tuning, the next he had leapt to Occlumency and memory control, then back to the Patronus before suddenly referencing Legilimency and how to invade someone's mind.
That style would have left ordinary students completely lost.
It required both broad, deep knowledge and lightning-fast thinking.
But Lucien kept perfect pace with him—sometimes even adding his own insights during the brief pauses.
"You're saying the 'happiness level' of a memory matters more than how real it actually is?" Lucien asked.
"Exactly." Snape glanced at him. "A vague but intensely happy memory works better than a crystal-clear one that only feels 'warm.' As long as you believe in it strongly enough, even a completely fabricated 'false' memory will do…"
When he finished, the corner of his mouth twitched—the closest thing to a satisfied smile he ever showed.
Teaching a bright student was genuinely enjoyable.
While he lectured, Snape silently compared Lucien to the other dunderheads who couldn't even manage basic memorization. They looked human enough, but their brains might as well belong to trolls.
His throat felt dry from talking so much, yet he felt strangely refreshed.
You would never guess he had been injured only days earlier.
Snape's cauldron incident had caused quite a stir at Hogwarts, but to wizards it was really just a "minor wound." Madam Pomfrey's skills had him back on his feet quickly.
Neither Potions nor Defense Against the Dark Arts had been canceled—though Snape was no longer covering Defense alone. The other Heads of House were now rotating through the classes.
Each brought their own specialty, and their lessons naturally overlapped with the subjects they already taught.
Professor Flitwick liked to break down dark curses and dangerous creatures first, then combine counter-spells with dueling technique.
Professor McGonagall focused on clever uses of Transfiguration, turning everyday objects into defensive tools.
Professor Sprout emphasized identifying dangerous plants. With younger students she avoided mentioning combat uses of magical plants—clearly worried they would experiment recklessly.
After all, things like Venomous Tentacula or Biting Cabbages could easily turn on the caster if you didn't know exactly what you were doing.
Listening to Snape's nonstop lecture, Lucien couldn't help wondering whether the reduced workload from the other professors covering Defense had left the old bat feeling unusually energetic.
"Have you understood the key techniques I just explained?" Snape asked, lowering his wand and turning around.
Lucien nodded.
He kept his eyes carefully away from Snape's head.
Snape usually wore his hair loose, but for the past few days he had been wearing the traditional wizard hat, the brim often shading his eyes. It made him look even more like the kind of dark wizard from old stories who dragged Muggles home for sinister experiments.
Lucien wondered whether Madam Pomfrey had simply forgotten to regrow the patch of hair the cauldron had burned away.
Thanks to a hint from a seventh-year, Lucien had been quietly working on a hair-growth potion. He had made decent progress—magic really was far more efficient than Muggle science, skipping entire layers of theory.
Unfortunately, most magical creations didn't work on Muggles. Potions especially tended to cause extra side effects.
Otherwise, certain potions could probably cure plenty of "incurable" diseases.
Should he offer the hair-growth potion to Snape?
No. Definitely not directly.
The old bat would probably take it as an insult.
He could frame it as asking for brewing advice and let Snape examine the potion himself…
Snape put his wand away and cleared his throat.
"If you understood, then try it."
Lucien raised his wand and was about to speak the incantation when—
"Wait."
Snape turned and walked quickly to the far corner of the classroom, putting as much distance between them as possible before nodding for Lucien to continue.
Lucien suddenly felt awkward.
Don't make it sound like my Patronus is dangerous or something…