The silver mist that burst from Harold's wand paused briefly in the air before circling around the spacious History of Magic classroom—almost as if patrolling its territory.
At that moment, Lupin was guiding Harry, having just opened the box a crack. A withered, skeletal hand was beginning to emerge.
But as the silvery mist floated past, the hand recoiled sharply, and with a crisp click, the box snapped shut again.
Simultaneously, the mist in the air dissipated.
Harry and Lupin exchanged glances before both turning toward Harold.
"Was that a Patronus?" Lupin asked, thinking back to what he had just seen.
That warm, calming magic was unmistakably from a Patronus, but it wasn't a full corporeal one. A complete Patronus would take on a clear animal form, and while that one had a distinct outline—clearly a cat—it hadn't fully materialized.
If sixty points was the passing mark, Harold's Patronus would probably score somewhere between forty and fifty. Harry, on the other hand, who could only produce formless silvery vapor, would be lucky to get twenty—a low score, even among beginners.
The real issue was that Harry had picked the wrong memory. The fleeting joy he'd focused on wasn't nearly strong enough to sustain a Patronus. If he found a truly powerful, meaningful memory, maybe he could bump that up to thirty.
"Excellent, Harold. Excellent. Truly amazing!" Lupin clapped with genuine praise, snapping Harry out of his daze.
"You—you've already learned it?" Harry asked, incredulous.
That same warm sensation… it was identical to what he'd felt on the train.
"Not yet. I'm still a bit off," Harold replied modestly.
"Yes, but don't forget, this is your very first attempt," Lupin said. "You just need more practice."
He cast a glance at the chest on the floor.
If it were just Harry, using the Boggart-turned-Dementor would be ideal. Lupin was confident he could help him produce a proper Patronus today.
But Harold didn't fear Dementors, which made it hard to use the Boggart for training purposes.
Still… maybe it was worth a try.
Lupin motioned for Harold to stand behind the chest and resumed the earlier setup.
He had Harry ready himself, then flung open the box.
A Dementor rose slowly out, gliding swiftly toward Harry, its wheezing breath echoing through the room.
Harry's body trembled uncontrollably, as if chilled to the bone.
"Expecto Patronum… Protectum…" he shouted, lifting his wand—then collapsed, unconscious.
Lupin was ready. He caught Harry before he hit the ground.
The Dementor shimmered and changed into a bright white moon.
"Riddikulus!"
With a pop, the moon deflated into a balloon and flopped onto the floor.
"Did you feel anything?" Lupin turned to Harold.
"Nothing," Harold said, shaking his head.
They had only been about three feet apart, but Harold hadn't felt a single thing. While Harry had been writhing in cold, Harold had stood there watching with mild confusion.
To Harold, the Boggart's transformation was just visual—no more threatening than something conjured with Transfiguration. But Harry clearly sensed something very real.
Lupin sighed, disappointed.
He had hoped Harold might benefit from standing nearby during Harry's practice, but that clearly wasn't going to work.
What a pity… why didn't Harold fear Dementors?
Would he really have to wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend and take him to confront a real Dementor?
Lupin hesitated.
It wasn't that he was unwilling, but a real Dementor was nothing like a Boggart—it could cause genuine, lasting harm.
Lupin couldn't guarantee he'd be able to protect Harold.
…
Some time passed before Harry suddenly jolted awake. He found himself lying on the floor, the bright overhead lamps of the classroom glaring above him.
"Sorry…" he muttered, sitting up. Cold sweat dripped from behind his glasses.
"You alright?" Lupin asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, grabbing onto a desk for support—then noticed Lupin was alone. Harold was gone.
Oddly, Harry felt… relieved.
He really didn't want Harold to see him passed out like that.
Even though he knew Harold had definitely seen it happen, at least now he wouldn't have to face the awkward pity afterward. That was something.
"Where's Harold?" he asked.
"He went back," Lupin replied, handing Harry a Chocolate Frog. "He's at the stage where what he needs is repetition. No point in staying."
Harry lowered his head and bit off the frog's head.
His emotions were hard to untangle. He'd expected to practice with a friend tonight—only to be thoroughly outpaced.
Harold had already cast a nearly complete Patronus. Meanwhile, he couldn't even stay conscious.
"I heard it again this time," Harry mumbled. "The voices… and him. Voldemort…"
His mind drifted back to Harold.
"So, to learn the Patronus Charm, you have to face a Dementor?"
"Not necessarily," Lupin said, "but it's the fastest way. Of course, Harold is different—he's an exception. I've never seen anyone master the Patronus so quickly. First try, and it already had a shape."
"You said… I need to hear those voices to do this?"
Lupin offered another Chocolate Frog.
Harry nodded.
"Well… if you don't want to keep trying, I'd understand," Lupin said gently. "Standard practice is fine too. Slower, but safer…"
"No," Harry interrupted, voice tense as he shoved the rest of the frog into his mouth. "I want to keep going."
Maybe if Harold weren't around, he would've chosen the safer path.
But not now. He couldn't fall too far behind.
"Alright then," Lupin said, respecting his decision. He grabbed the chest again. "But you may need to pick a different memory. That last one wasn't strong enough—the magic faded too fast."