Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 523 524: The Patronus Charm

"Allow me to explain," Professor Lupin said slowly, his voice regaining some of

its strength.

"The Patronus Charm is one of the most famous defensive spells known to

wizardkind, and certainly one of the most powerful. It is an immensely complex

and difficult spell to cast; it evokes a semi-tangible positive force known as a

Patronus. It is the only real defense against Dementors and Lethifolds—creatures

for which no other protection exists."

Lupin clearly possessed a profound understanding of the charm. He continued in a

gentle, instructional tone, "However, the vast majority of witches and wizards

are unable to produce a Patronus in any form, let alone a corporeal one."

"Then what do they do when they face a Dementor?" Ron asked, looking pale.

Lupin was silent for a moment, then simply shook his head.

The students felt a cold shiver run down their spines. If Sean hadn't been there

with his Patronus, what would that creature have done to them? The most

terrifying part was the realization that they would have been utterly

defenseless.

"Can I learn it?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Professor Lupin?"

After eating the chocolate, she had clearly decided that this "Bookshop Manager"

turned Professor was the real deal.

"The Patronus Charm is widely considered advanced magic, Miss Granger—well

beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is so complex that many qualified wizards

and witches struggle with it. In fact, even summoning an incorporeal mist is

considered a mark of superior magical ability."

Lupin didn't give her a direct 'yes,' but the weight of his explanation made

Hermione lower her head in thought.

"What about Sean's?" Ron asked, scratching his head. "I saw... it was a cat,

right?"

"Ah, Mr. Green..." Lupin paused, looking at Sean with a mix of pride and awe.

"Forgive me, everyone, but Mr. Green is quite simply the most gifted wizard I

have ever encountered. I find it difficult to fathom a wizard of his age

summoning a full, corporeal Patronus. In all my travels, I have never seen

anything like it."

"Well, yeah," Ron said, nodding as if it were the most natural thing in the

world. "It's Sean, isn't it?"

Lupin looked around the compartment and was surprised to find that every student

had an expression of total agreement.

"Is that the general consensus?" Lupin asked with a chuckle.

"You'll learn eventually, Lu—" Ron started.

"Remus."

"—Professor Lupin," Ron corrected himself, sounding like an old man dispensing

wisdom. "If you ever find yourself thinking something is impossible, just put

Sean's name in front of it. Then it's just a fact."

The train gave a long, mournful whistle. Finally, the Hogwarts Express pulled

into Hogsmeade Station.

The scene on the platform was one of pure chaos. Owls hooted, cats screeched,

and Neville's pet toad, Trevor, was croaking loudly from somewhere under his

hat. The air was biting, and a bone-chilling rain was pouring down in sheets.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Sean stepped off the train and immediately spotted the massive silhouette of

Rubeus Hagrid at the far end of the platform. Hagrid was busy ushering the

terrified eleven-year-olds toward the fleet of little boats for their

traditional journey across the lake.

"Hey! Sean!"

Hagrid waved a hand the size of a trash-can lid and mouthed something to him.

Sean understood: Hagrid wanted him to stop by the hut later to discuss their

first lesson.

Sean was officially Hagrid's Teaching Assistant for the term. Though he was

still a student, Hagrid refused to finalize any lesson plans without Sean's

input. For his part, Sean was more than happy to help—he had no desire to see

Buckbeak the Hippogriff end up on the executioner's block again.

As Harry and the others climbed down from the carriage, a familiar, drawling

voice rang out from behind them.

"You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? Did you actually pass

out?"

Draco Malfoy shoved through a group of first-years to block Harry's path to the

carriages. He looked delighted, his grey eyes glinting with malice. Crabbe and

Goyle stood behind him, snickering like trolls.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron growled, his jaw set tight.

"Did you faint too, Weasley?" Malfoy jeered. "Did the scary old Dementor give

you a fright, too?"

"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked.

Professor Lupin had emerged from the train. Malfoy took in the Professor's

patched robes and battered suitcase with a look of supreme arrogance, but he

quickly checked himself.

"Oh... no—er—Professor," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with insincere

politeness.

Before he could say another word, his eyes met Sean's. Sean was staring at him

with those unblinking, deep emerald eyes.

Sean felt a momentary sense of pity. Malfoy was like Harry's shadow; whenever

Harry stumbled, Malfoy was there with a metaphorical camera, ready to document

the failure. Sean knew Malfoy's obsession stemmed from Harry's rejection of his

"friendship" in first year, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter.

The Malfoy family, Sean noted, had never actually managed to accomplish a single

significant task for Voldemort. They were loud, but ultimately ineffective.

Outside the Castle.

The students followed the crowd up the stone steps and through the magnificent

oak front doors into the vast, torch-lit Entrance Hall. To the right, the doors

to the Great Hall stood open. Sean glanced up at the enchanted ceiling—it was a

dark, stormy grey, reflecting the weather outside.

"Sean—you boy—and Potter! I want a word with you both!"

Sean felt himself instinctively "shrink" into a student role as he and a

startled Harry turned around. Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration mistress

and Head of Gryffindor House, was calling to them over the heads of the crowd.

She was a formidable figure, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her sharp eyes

peering through square spectacles.

"There's no need to look so worried—I just want a quick word in my office,

Potter—" she said to Harry. Then she turned her gaze to Sean, her expression

softening into that of a frustrated guardian. "As for you... you should look

worried. Come along."

She turned back to the rest of the group. "Off you go to the Hall—Weasley,

Granger, Longbottom, and you as well, Mr. Finch-Fletchley."

The others watched in silence as McGonagall led Harry and Sean away from the

laughing, chattering crowd. They climbed the marble staircase and followed her

down a quiet corridor.

McGonagall's office was small but cozy, with a bright fire crackling in the

grate. As they entered, she gestured for them to sit. She stood beside Sean,

looking down at him with a complicated expression before addressing them both.

"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead," she said abruptly. "He informed me that you encountered something... rather unpleasant on the train."

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