Night fell.
A group of professors was busy preparing for tonight's special lesson.
The teaching grounds were set outside the castle. The snow had not yet melted, and a cold wind occasionally swept in from the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake. To counter this, clusters of blue flames floated along both sides of the path—warm, soft, and smooth as silk, glowing in the darkness like brilliant sapphires.
The flames stretched all the way from the Entrance Hall to the school gates, lighting the way for the students.
The young witches and wizards finished their dinners in a rush and hurried over without a moment's pause.
On the iron bars of the school gate sat bronze reliefs of winged boars, surrounded by flickering blue fire. The flames here weren't just for warmth; they served as stage lighting, positioned perfectly to illuminate the clearing without being harsh or distracting, ensuring the students could focus entirely on the lesson.
While the setup kept the ground cold, those standing in the clearing didn't feel the chill at all. Every student wore their house-colored wool scarf, the soft fibers lying flat and still, as the biting wind was blocked by an invisible barrier.
There were no tents, no chairs, and no podium. Students and professors alike stood in the open air, with hundreds of people packing the space in front of the school gates.
The starry sky wasn't particularly bright, and the snowy ground looked plain in the dark until the soft blue light spilled over, illuminating the students' faces.
The entire school was in attendance, split into their respective house lines. Everyone was in high spirits, chatting excitedly; the collective buzz of their voices was so strong it caused the thick snow on the ground to vibrate slightly.
For most students, only Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology took place outdoors; Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms were usually confined to classrooms. To them, this felt like a Muggle student being told math class was moving to the football field—the novelty was through the roof.
Professor Snape, acting as a special teaching assistant for Potions, was pacing the perimeter of the magical barrier. Expressionless and walking with a sharp, military stride, he carried a vial of potion that emitted a thin trail of vapor.
The diluted Cheering Charm wasn't overpowering, but as students caught a whiff of the mist, they felt their spirits lift. Their conversations grew more animated, and their anticipation for the club meeting reached a fever pitch.
According to the bulletin board, the Dueling Club was set to start at 7:30 PM. With ten minutes to go, the professors had all arrived, but the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen.
The Dueling Club had held special sessions before with guest professors, but this was the first time Dumbledore himself was acting as an assistant. Students craned their necks, looking everywhere in eager expectation.
Five minutes before the start of class.
Two figures appeared at the end of the path. As they drew closer, the blue flames revealed two familiar faces: an old man with a long silver beard and hair, and beside him, a boy wearing a red-and-gold tie and green eyes behind round glasses.
Harry asked with a hint of confusion, "Sir, isn't it wrong for Fudge and Umbridge to delay the trial? Why can't you use your authority in the Wizengamot to remove Fudge or force the trial forward?".
"Because someone is already doing that," Dumbledore replied.
"But Madam Bones is only a Department Head".
"Harry, I need you to understand something," Dumbledore said patiently. "This may involve a struggle for power, but it has nothing to do with rank or titles. We must act according to who we are. I am at Hogwarts, and I like to think I'm a fairly good professor".
The old wizard looked up at the waiting students and paused. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I cannot participate in such a fight. When I was younger, certain experiences proved that power is my weakness... my greatest temptation".
"Then what about Sirius?".
"You can rest easy for now. I may not be suited to touch power, but there are those who are". Dumbledore paused to wave at a few students with a smile. "Fudge and Umbridge hold high positions, but they cannot withstand the collective will of the wizarding world. The trial won't be delayed much longer. When the time comes, I might not sit on the jury, but I will be there as Sirius's legal representative to argue his case".
"Argue what?".
"The same things you and your friends have been digging up lately: the reasons for concealing his status as an unregistered Animagus, the failure to follow proper legal procedures, and the panic caused by his escape".
The Headmaster's voice was steady and gentle. "Don't worry, Harry. Sirius was a brother-in-arms; we fought Dark Wizards together. My negligence led to a miscarriage of justice twelve years ago. That won't happen again".
"I understand," Harry said, his expression a mix of emotions.
Professor Flitwick stepped forward to greet them.
Harry joined the Gryffindor line and watched silently as the professors spoke in low voices, likely finalizing the lesson plan. The other professors then stepped back to guard the gates, and Professor Flitwick moved to the front.
"Who remembers the definition of the Patronus Charm?" The half-goblin tapped his wand against his throat, making his high-pitched voice carry across the clearing.
Before Harry could even process the question, a blur caught the corner of his eye. Hermione had acted on instinct, her hand shooting into the air.
Flitwick scanned the crowd, his eyes lingering on the Gryffindors for a moment. "Mr. Weasley... Ron Weasley, you take this one".
Ron was caught off guard and stammered through his answer:
"The Patronus Charm... it's a defensive spell, a very powerful piece of ancient magic. It can be used to send messages and ward off Dark creatures like Dementors, Lethifolds, and... Banshees!".
Ron grew more confident as he spoke. Despite Hermione's frantic looks trying to signal that he was missing several key points, he continued smoothly:
"...plus it looks incredible, and it's extremely difficult to cast. Summoning a corporeal Patronus is basically the ultimate status symbol of a powerful wizard".
That last part was purely Ron's own opinion.
"Excellent. It seems your brains didn't leak out along with your Christmas pudding and roast chicken. Three points to Gryffindor".
Flitwick used Ron's answer to segue into the technical points of the spell. He knew perfectly well that Miss Granger would have given a much more organized answer worth at least five points, but it also would have taken twice as long.
The focus of tonight's session was practice, not theory.
"You must remember that the most unique aspect of the Patronus Charm is how the effect is tied directly to the caster's emotions. To summon a corporeal Patronus, you need to dig through your memories and relive a moment of pure happiness. The rest comes down to a rock-solid protective intent".
"And now, I'll turn the floor over to Professor Levent to lead the practice session".
---
At a quarter to eight, Melvin stepped toward the young witches and wizards with a light stride. He wore a light brown trench coat similar in style to a wizard's robe; his black hair and dark eyes were warm, and he smiled with the same gentle glow as the blue flames.
Just standing near him seemed to lift everyone's spirits.
Perhaps that was exactly why Professor Levent was chosen to lead the practice.
The students whispered among themselves, a sense of excitement building in the air.
"Professor Flitwick moved through the review quickly to give you more time to practice, but before we start, we need to clear something up".
Seeing the bright, eager eyes in front of him, Melvin nodded in satisfaction. "I imagine many of you are wondering why we left the warm, cozy Great Hall to spend time and energy setting up a classroom out here in the snow".
A few students had realized this when they saw the notice but hadn't had a chance to ask. Now, prompted by the professor, the rest of the crowd caught on to the unusual choice of location.
"It's because of the nature of the Dementor".
Melvin answered his own question. He didn't use a Sonorus charm, yet his gentle voice carried across the grounds as if he were whispering into everyone's ear.
He pointed his wand toward the northwestern sky, where a sliver of the moon hung behind dark clouds. That mist was the byproduct of the Dementors gathering; within the roiling fog, flickering shadows moved with an eerie, bat-like grace.
"The Dementors we know come from the pits of Azkaban—a graveyard built on the bones of pain and despair. When the souls of the wretched wander that tomb, their suffering gives birth to these monsters of the dark".
Melvin continued softly, "In the ages before the Ministry conquered Azkaban, Dementors were hunters of the mist. When human sight was obscured, they used their sense of smell to track the emotions of wizards and hunt them down, feeding on their happy memories".
"Hunting wizards?".
The students looked at one another. Even coming from the Muggle Studies professor, the metaphor was unsettling.
"We spoke with the Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade. Ever since Sirius Black's escape, these Dementors have been circling the skies above the village and the school. Because of the Ministry's restrictions and the protection of the Aurors and professors, they haven't been able to find a single scrap of food—that is to say, happiness—for over six months".
Melvin slowed his pace. "Dementors have no thoughts or wisdom, and therefore, no self-control. A starving animal will attack a human, and a famished Dementor is no different".
In the front of the Gryffindor line, Percy frowned. "Is that why they broke into the Hogwarts Express at the start of the year and the Quidditch pitch later? They were starving?".
"Yes. Those first two attempts were driven back, but beasts have notoriously short memories".
Melvin spoke in a low, haunting tone, "You all went home for the holidays, and Hogwarts was empty for weeks. Now that you've returned, filled with the joy of your vacation, this castle smells like a feast again—and a more tempting one than ever".
At that moment, the barrier protecting them from the wind vanished.
A cold gust hit them, and the students shivered, pulling their heads into their collars.
"I must remind you: your heads are full of happy holiday memories, and right behind you is the Hogwarts you need to protect. All the conditions for a Patronus Charm are present...".
Melvin paused, a smile playing on his lips. "Now, begin your practice!".
As the words left his mouth, the sound of fluttering cloaks echoed from the clouds above.
The students looked up, their eyes widening in shock.
The once-calm night sky was now filled with the flapping of bat-like cloaks. It was as if something delicious was drawing them in. In the soft blue light of the fires, the hollow, empty eye sockets of the Dementors were visible, filled with drifting gray mist.
A bone-chilling fog slowly descended, the temperature drop causing the air to swirl. The clearing felt like a cave full of bats.
"The professors will protect us, right?" Ron whispered.
"After we pass out?" Harry gripped his wand tight and took a deep breath, readying himself. "We'd better lie down early then; there aren't many empty beds in the hospital wing".
"I don't pass out when I face them." Ron gripped his wand just as tight.
"Spread out! Underclassmen to the back!" Percy, as Head Boy, shouted.
The lines didn't move. Some students panicked, running around like headless chickens; a wave of frantic muttering began to spread, drowning out the orders of the prefects. Panic was taking root.
Amidst the chaos, a voice amplified by a Sonorus charm cut through the noise. Cedric Diggory, wand to his throat, shouted, "Hufflepuff Quidditch players, Hawk's Head attacking formation! Push everyone third year and below to the back!".
The Hawk's Head is a basic Quidditch tactic where three players work together to force an opponent in a specific direction.
With Cedric taking charge, Hufflepuff found its footing. Upperclassmen moved forward and underclassmen moved back. While it wasn't perfectly orderly, they managed to form a rough defensive line.
The other three houses followed suit. A few stubborn third-year Slytherins tried to stay at the front, but the hulking Slytherin Quidditch players simply grabbed them—including a certain Malfoy—by the scruff of the neck and hauled them to the back.
In less than thirty seconds, the Dementors were upon them.
A freezing wind carrying white mist hit them full-force, and a strange, heavy magic descended, making their heads feel foggy. Terrible, negative emotions flooded their minds, making them stutter as they tried to recite the incantation.
The eight prefects from the houses all instinctively stepped back. That brief eye contact felt as though something was leaking into their heads through their very breath, leaving them feeling as though they were standing in the middle of a blizzard in nothing but their pajamas.
For some reason, the Dementors didn't press the attack.
"Expecto Patronum!".
Harry and Hermione, standing in the back row, were the first to cast.
Cedric followed immediately, then Percy and Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw. By the time the average student reacted, it was already the fourth wave of spells.
Streaks of silver-white light erupted across the snowy ground, illuminating the entire clearing. The first few casters produced glowing, semi-shaped blobs of light; the others produced wisps of silver mist. Together, they looked like glowing, wispy cotton candy as they surged toward the Dementors.
"I am definitely not passing out this time!" Harry shouted through gritted teeth.
The Dementors hovering in the air regrouped and charged as if on command, colliding with the unfinished Patronuses.
What looked to be a grueling battle turned out to be a total blowout. With a series of pops, the Dementors vanished instantly like punctured balloons.
The young witches and wizards stared blankly at the sky, their wands still held high.
"Boggarts?" Harry said, stunned.
"Practice is over. The real battle begins now".
Melvin's voice rang out with a hint of a smile, followed by a chill so deep it made their very souls shiver. Within seconds, it felt as though they had fallen into the frozen depths of the Black Lake.
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