"Yes, Headmaster," I smiled. "The others and I spent quite a lot of time just to get any results at all. It turned out to be very difficult to cast such powerful magic."
"I understand you perfectly," the Headmaster smiled. "That is why such magic is considered advanced. Specifically, the Patronus Charm is not so much difficult to perform as it is demanding in terms of a wizard's experience and their ability to channel a large amount of magic through a wand. As I understand, you can create a non-corporeal Patronus, but not a corporeal one."
The question was clearly rhetorical and he did not require my answer, it was written on his face.
"That is quite telling."
"Telling?"
"Yes, Mr. Granger. A skill like that speaks of a certain mental maturity, self-control. A corporeal Patronus, however, comes more easily to impulsive people, those who readily follow their emotions and have a hard time stopping. That is why their magic output grows as a stream, forming a corporeal Patronus. The one who controls themself is more predisposed toward a non-corporeal Patronus, dosing their emotions and magic in precise, sharp impulses."
"So," I thought, analyzing his words, "to form a corporeal Patronus you need a smooth build-up of emotions and magic?"
"Exactly."
"Interesting," I smiled. "And it never occurred to me, despite how much I've read."
"That is the difference between experience and knowledge. Books do not write everything. Wizards are subconsciously greedy when it comes to knowledge earned through life, as they say, with sweat and blood. And the more complex and refined the magic, the more such little omissions you find in books. That is one reason I cannot grant you access to the Restricted Section now. A mass of such omissions adds up into a complete misunderstanding of the magic you want to touch, and that is dangerous. Very dangerous, and first and foremost for you, Mr. Granger. Anything must be approached with both knowledge and experience, with understanding behind you."
"I understand, Headmaster. Thank you for that small lesson."
"Not at all," Dumbledore waved it off. "May I ask, by the way, how you learned the Patronus so quickly?"
"We have a decent motivator flying around the school," I shrugged, and the Headmaster's expression darkened at once.
"Indeed. A very unpleasant neighborhood."
"Is there some way... I don't know, Headmaster, to send the Dementors where they belong?"
"To my great regret, I am, though influential, not the one who regulates such measures. They are handled strictly by the Minister of Magic. But in any case, I won't keep you any longer. If my memory serves, you have Quidditch practice soon with the others, do you not?"
"Yes, actually. I kept you. Have a good day," I nodded, and after his nod in return, I left the Headmaster's office.
So I needed to study local magic, and most importantly, the school curriculum. I already understood that at first glance it seemed ridiculous, but it wasn't.
On Saturday evening, after dinner, as always, I went down to the dungeons for extra Potions practice. Professor Snape sat at his desk as usual, checking students' homework scrolls with little enthusiasm. Daphne already sat at the first table, the tools were laid out, and nearby were cups and small bowls of various ingredients. At the back of the classroom stood dirty cauldrons clearly meant for detention work, but where were the culprits? Judging by the professor's look, he expected to see them right now, but no, it was only me.
"Come in, sit," Snape greeted me in his usual laconic way. "Recipes on the board, ingredients on the table, hands belong on your shoulders, and your head, I dare hope, is not empty."
With a wave of his hand, the professor made recipes appear on the board behind him in chalk, and I quickly took my place beside Daphne.
"Greengrass."
"Granger."
"Merlin Almighty..."
"Unexpected," Daphne and I looked at the professor at the same time as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"Why me..."
We exchanged a look, smirked, and started brewing. By now I had started doing the actual brewing too, having gotten better over time at the small things, like cutting, judging the potion's state at intermediate stages, building tables of ingredient reactions under different conditions and at different stages, and all that.
"Greengrass."
"Yes?"
"I heard your favorite pastry shop launched a new series."
"Hm?" Daphne glanced at me sharply, her expression demanding details, then quickly returned to her usual coolness. "Ahem. Yes, I would like to know details."
"Oh, then we absolutely need to go to Hogsmeade, because by the next visit they should already be there..."
"At Madam Puddifoot's," Daphne gave a sorrowful little smirk. "How very Slytherin of you, playing on the weaknesses of a poor, sensitive young lady."
She gave such an exaggeratedly sad sigh that I couldn't hold back a smile.
"But considering my parents' instructions, and the entire idea of that place, that kind of adventure seems a bit reckless."
"Are we wizards, or did we just go out for a walk?" I started slicing the root that was first on the ingredient list. "There are charms and spells for disguise and changing your appearance, and even Polyjuice, at least..."
"Does nothing bother you, young people?" Snape, who until then had been hidden behind a large parchment scroll, dropped its top edge sharply, looking at us with mild displeasure. "My presence here, for example?"
"Oh, right, Professor," I nodded to Snape. "How do you brew Polyjuice?"
"Your impudence, Mr. Granger, causes me mild irritation. And if rumors among students are to be believed, my irritation tends to turn into unpleasantness for its source. Do you find your behavior reasonable?"
"Better to trust an expert and get a scolding than ruin something on my own and get injured."
"Hm," Snape gave a barely noticeable shake of his head. "If only those words could reach one reckless individual. I must warn you that illegal brewing of Polyjuice Potion, without at least apprentice-level qualification and without prior notice to the DMLE, is punishable by six months in Azkaban."
"Then Polyjuice is off the table," I shrugged, and Daphne, busy like me with ingredient prep, smiled faintly.
"Also, as a Hogwarts professor, I consider it my duty to inform you that Madam Puddifoot's is protected by charms similar to Thief's Downfall, which strip concealment magic from visitors."
"That is unfortunate," I nodded, tossing the sliced roots and a couple pinches of pixie dust into the lightly bubbling cauldron.
"I remember a time," Snape changed his tone for no reason at all, "when, using the spell on page one hundred thirty-one of the third volume of Advanced Charms by Miranda Sayer, one could anchor any charm placed on oneself or a companion, avoiding its removal even by Thief's Downfall. Those were good times."
Daphne and I exchanged a look, and it was obvious what goal we'd be pursuing the next time we visited the library.
"However, due to recent events, during the next trip to Hogsmeade it will not be allowed to split into small groups, and the trip will take place under very close Auror supervision."
So killing Dementors stirred the swamp a bit too hard. And the professor was... too talkative. Maybe he was in a good mood. It happens, though very, very rarely.
"Also," Snape's expression and tone returned to the harsh Potions master we knew, "as Head of Slytherin, I was forced to agree to a request from Miss Greengrass's parents. To inform them if the behavior of the young miss in any way tarnishes the moral image of a young lady from a Most Ancient and Noble family of pure-blood witches and wizards."
There was both strictness and a trace of irony in his tone, which neither Daphne nor I missed.
"And I feel strong irritation when I have to tell someone something about someone. May I hope you won't become a source of strong irritation?"
"Of course, Professor," we said at the same time.
"Excellent," Snape nodded, turning sharply toward the doorway. "Ah. Here you are."
In the doorway stood a blonde seventh-year in Ravenclaw robes with a prefect badge, and behind her were two first-years from the same house. They looked guilty, but also like they refused to admit they were wrong.
"Professor," the blonde nodded. "I've brought you the students for detention."
"You're late, Miss Clearwater."
"It won't happen again."
"I have heard that for seven years, and for seven years I have answered you the same way. Minus one point from Ravenclaw, Miss Clearwater, for variety, for irresponsible performance of prefect duties."
"Yes, Professor," the girl practically shoved the culprits into the room and nodded. "I'll come back for them in two hours."
"Kindly do." Snape looked sternly at the first-years. "You. Over there. Cauldrons, sponges, and ordinary chemicals. Enjoy the results of your experiments and your disregard for safety."
The boys nodded gloomily and trudged toward the far corner of the classroom. Saturday evening is a wonderful time.
Sunday brought good weather, which made all the students happy, because when the sun is out, even if it doesn't warm much yet, it's still better than a gray sky and cold wind. That kind of weather is perfect for watching a Quidditch match between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams.
Like many other Hogwarts students, I attended the game, though I wasn't rooting for any particular team. Sitting in the stands among other Hufflepuff students, Cedric and I followed the game closely, and the Slytherins' style too, since we'll be playing them soon. Though, to be honest, Cedric kept getting distracted by the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang. The Chinese girl was pretty, and among Europeans she stood out very, very strongly, drawing attention.