The stir caused by the stag drew the attention of every young wizard in the room. Even Pansy, who had never liked Harry Potter, couldn't help but gape in shock.
That stag, bathed in a soft silver glow, made one thing painfully clear—a conclusion Pansy was unwilling to admit.
Still unconvinced, she reached out and tugged at the hem of Draco's robe.
"That can't be real, right? Maybe it's another wizard's—"
She broke off mid-sentence.
The stag lowered its antlers and nuzzled Harry Potter affectionately. The gesture left no room for doubt. Pansy swallowed the rest of her words.
Astoria hesitated before speaking.
"The second stage of the Patronus Charm… There's no mistake. That's Potter's Patronus."
"Ah. It seems our Chosen One has quite a gift in this area."
Draco folded his arms across his chest. He didn't look particularly shaken, though there was no denying he was surprised.
After all, this was the Patronus Charm.
Reaching the first stage—producing nothing more than a misty wisp—wasn't especially difficult. Nearly any wizard could manage that.
But stepping into the second stage and summoning a fully formed Patronus was an entirely different matter.
Only then could it truly be called the Patronus Charm.
...
The Patronus.
Back when Dumbledore had conjured a phoenix on the Quidditch Pitch, the sight had left a deep impression on everyone present. That Patronus had nearly covered half the field, showcasing just how extraordinary and unique the spell was.
In truth, every wizard's Patronus was unique. And clearly, Harry Potter's took the form of a stag.
A Patronus was a manifestation of one's inner self, a profound expression of magic given shape.
"Patronus Charm is magic that almost seems alive."
"Alive?"
"Yes. And a spell with that kind of quality is what we call… extraordinary magic."
"Extraordinary… magic?"
Hearing the term again, Hermione fixed her eyes on the stag, which looked almost indistinguishable from a living creature.
Compared to Transfiguration, it felt far more vivid. If not for the silver radiance enveloping it, one might have mistaken it for a real animal.
Then something occurred to her. She lifted her head and looked at Draco.
"Then during the Triwizard Tournament, the Fiendfyre Curse you cast—was that also…?"
"..."
Draco didn't answer. He simply tapped the floor lightly with his wand.
"Rather than that, what you should be focusing on now is mastering the Patronus Charm. The real Patronus Charm."
Though he avoided the question, Hermione had more or less received her answer.
Extraordinary magic that carried a semblance of life…
Silently, she tucked the term away in her mind.
Beside her, Pansy clenched her fist.
"Draco's right. I refuse to lose to that guy. And I'm curious what my Patronus would look like."
"Given the current situation, mastering the Patronus Charm is indeed necessary," Astoria added quietly. Unlike Pansy's competitive streak, she was thinking about the possibility of Dementors spiraling out of control.
Simply put, if they ever had to face Voldemort in the future, mastering the Patronus Charm would be essential.
Just as they reached an agreement and Pansy was about to call over Goyle and Crabbe, the Head Boy who had been standing on the platform suddenly approached their corner.
With him came several senior Gryffindor students.
"Master the Patronus Charm? Listen to that. These evil Slytherins actually want to learn it?"
"Ha. Maybe they're trying to turn over a new leaf. Everyone knows Malfoy's offended that person. It's not the first time they've switched sides."
"Tsk."
The mocking voices didn't belong to the Head Boy, but the sneer on his face was plain for Pansy and the others to see.
It was obvious who was orchestrating this.
Yet the moment Draco's gaze shifted toward him, the Head Boy—whose name none of them could even remember—stumbled back several steps in embarrassment.
His companions' expressions darkened instantly.
They clearly hadn't expected to be the first ones embarrassed.
Pansy let out a soft laugh.
And the group opposite them flushed red with humiliation.
Revenge never waits for tomorrow—that was a phrase often used to describe Gryffindor's little lions.
Yet this Head Boy, whose name Draco couldn't even be bothered to remember, had actually held back this long before choosing to come looking for trouble.
Still, the reckless way he ignored the gap in their strength only proved one thing.
He was Gryffindor through and through.
In any case.
If a few taunts were enough to provoke him, then Draco wouldn't be Draco.
The only thought that crossed his mind now was whether he had been too lenient back then.
Otherwise, how could this fool still have the nerve to stand here and challenge him?
Finding the whole thing tedious, Draco lifted his eyelids slightly and said just one sentence—one that drained the color from the other boy's face.
"If you can't even say Voldemort's name, then don't loiter in front of me."
"..."
"..."
"...How dare you—"
Even Gryffindors, famed for their courage, felt their hearts skip a beat at the sound of those three syllables. The sneers and anger on their faces froze instantly.
The confidence they had just moments ago vanished without a trace.
Watching them stand there at a loss, Hermione—who had been a little annoyed herself—suddenly didn't know what to say.
As for Pansy, she was already laughing so hard she had slumped against Draco's back. Whether he had genuinely hit her funny bone or she simply wanted an excuse to lean closer was anyone's guess.
Astoria, on the other hand, had worn a gentle smile from beginning to end as she observed the scene.
But if one looked carefully, they might notice the brief flash of cold light that flickered deep in her eyes when she glanced at the Head Boy.