Some people say magic is an inborn gift.
Others say magic is a miracle born from intense desire.
Both views have their supporters. The first, in particular, is regarded as truth by many pureblood wizards—and serves as the real reason they reject muggle-borns.
In reality, aside from talent, most advanced spells do require powerful emotions from the caster. Those emotions often determine not only whether the spell succeeds, but how strong it becomes.
Desire… or rather, will and emotion.
Dark magic that feeds on surging malice is a prime example.
The more vicious your hatred, the more devastating the dark magic you unleash.
There is even a saying:
[Raise your wand with the intent to kill your enemy. Otherwise, the one who dies will be you.]
Which is why no one dares to challenge Voldemort's dark magic. The malice within him is enough to shatter nearly any Defensive Charm in the wizarding world.
And that was precisely why those Gryffindors had claimed Draco and the others could never master the Patronus Charm.
If the Killing Curse is the most infamous embodiment of pitch-black murderous intent, then the Patronus Charm is the signature spell of the upright and the kind.
And clearly, in the eyes of the Gryffindors led by the Head Boy, Slytherins could hardly be called upright or kind—least of all Draco, who practically embodied the House itself.
Perhaps because they had already prepared themselves to stand beside Draco against Voldemort in the future, Pansy and the others remained astonishingly calm.
It was as if the name Voldemort they had just heard belonged to some elderly neighbor down the street.
Compared to the older students in front of them—including a Head Boy—the contrast in composure was almost absurd.
The aggressive momentum with which the Gryffindors had approached them evaporated under Draco's few casual words. What remained was an awkward silence.
Hermione, who happened to share their House, felt faintly uncomfortable.
I'm a Gryffindor too… but I'm not that reckless… right?
Astoria, maintaining her aristocratic poise, had already grasped the key point hidden in their ridicule.
So this is what gave them the confidence to come pick a fight?
Watching the seniors' stiff expressions at the mere mention of Voldemort's name, she found the thought almost amusing.
Something flickered in her eyes. The coolness at their corners curved upward slightly, like a fox spotting something entertaining.
She glanced at Draco, who looked faintly impatient, and murmured softly,
"Underestimated, are we… Our Draco leader."
Her voice was too low for anyone else to hear, but the sly gleam in her narrowed eyes was unmistakable.
Of the three girls, however, the one who could least tolerate Draco being questioned or "bullied" was Pansy.
Her expression turned icy as she stepped forward.
"Just like Draco said, if you mangy dogs can't even say Voldemort's name, then crawl back to your kennels and tremble with your tails between your legs!"
"..."
"..."
Hermione and Astoria both twitched at the corners of their mouths as they looked at Pansy clinging close to Draco and recalled her speech.
So it was you, Miss Parkinson.
They had finally identified the true culprit behind Goyle and Crabbe's sharp tongues.
As for Draco, who hadn't intended to waste any more words on them, he reached out and casually ruffled Pansy's hair as if giving a reward.
For a fleeting second, it almost seemed as though a satisfied little hum could be heard.
In short—
Normally, she was just the little tail trailing behind Draco. But at moments like this, Miss Husky would transform into a cold, sharp-tongued princess.
That was the charm of Miss Parkinson.
Unfortunately for Hermione and Astoria, watching Draco casually "pet" her made their expressions darken instantly.
Envy.
...
The room was crowded, and with the commotion around Harry Potter drawing most of the attention, Penelope clearly couldn't keep an eye on everything.
Was that why they had chosen this moment to make their move?
Pansy's blunt retort, coupled with the icy chill radiating from her, made the male Head Boy's expression darken. He shoved his companion aside and stepped forward himself.
"Can't refute it, can you? After all, we're not interested in learning the kind of dark magic only Death Eaters use!"
One had to admit, he did live up to his title.
While the others still flinched at the mere mention of that name, this nameless male Head Boy was the first to drag the topic back into the open.
Slytherins cannot master the true Patronus Charm.
That was his point.
Summoning a Patronus didn't just require a solid magical foundation. It demanded intensely powerful emotion.
Only when one's heart was filled with joy, light, and the desire to live could a Patronus take shape.
And in the eyes of these Gryffindor lions, such bright, positive emotions were exactly what the Slytherin snakes lacked.
That was the confidence behind their mockery.
Fully aware of what they were implying, Pansy slowly drew her beloved wand under their wary stares.
"Don't look down on us, you stray dogs."
Her face was cold, her dark hair lifting slightly in the air stirred by her magic. The energy gathering around her made her look almost regal, like a queen carved from ice.
It was hard to reconcile this poised, imposing figure with the girl who usually trailed after Draco, acting sweet and carefree.
Hermione, who had half-drawn her wand a moment earlier, quietly lowered it again, her expression turning complicated.
Come to think of it, she had actually wanted to test her wand—one she hadn't properly used in quite some time.
But clearly, that wouldn't be necessary.
The instant Pansy stepped forward, Draco took a leisurely step back, a faintly amused look in his eyes. With a casual motion, he drew Hermione and Astoria behind him.
Because now—
This was Miss Parkinson's stage.
...
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