Classes hadn't started yet. Kevin had three days, an empty classroom courtesy of Dumbledore, and five students who needed to know how to produce a Patronus.
The Dementor presence at Hogwarts this year was not going away. That meant everyone in his circle needed the defence, not just Harry.
He borrowed the classroom and got to work.
"The Patronus Charm draws on a single, powerful memory," Kevin said, standing at the front with his wand loose in his hand. "Something that made you genuinely, deeply happy. The happier the memory, the more force behind it — and the more protective the charm."
"What does a Patronus look like?" Hermione asked.
"Different for everyone. It's a reflection of something essentially you."
He raised his wand. "Mine's a goldfish."
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver light bloomed and shaped itself — a small, perfectly detailed goldfish with a luminous tail, drifting through the air of the classroom with total serenity. He guided it past each of their faces. It reached Hermione and dissolved into sparks against her cheek.
Five people stared.
"Right," Kevin said. "Your turn. Find a memory worth protecting. Something that matters."
Wands came out.
Harry went first. His lips moved. Nothing.
"Don't force it," Kevin said. "Conviction, not effort. What's worth keeping safe?"
Harry closed his eyes. His parents came to him — the image from the Mirror of Erised, his mother's hand on his shoulder, his father's steady nod. The memory was borrowed, in a sense. But the love behind the longing was entirely real.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver mist surged from his wand and held.
The room exhaled.
Harry opened his eyes and looked at what he'd made.
"Good," Kevin said. "The wind-up is slow — you'll need to practise getting there faster. But once it locks in, it holds." He looked at the others. "Share what worked, Harry. Help them find their anchor. I'll be with Hermione."
He crossed to where she was standing with her wand raised. She shot him a sideways look, then closed her eyes.
Her happiest days. Kevin. The morning she realised how she felt. The afternoon in the library when she'd first understood they thought the same way about things that mattered.
"Expecto Patronum."
A faint silver glow. Not Harry's level.
"That's a real memory," Kevin said quietly. "But the intention behind it needs to be sharper. It's not just about being happy — it's about what you'd protect."
Hermione breathed. What would I protect?
First year. The troll. Kevin standing in front of it, taking blow after blow to give them a chance to run. She had been useless. Terrified and useless. And she had never, not once, forgotten the feeling of wanting to be something better than that.
"Expecto Patronum."
The light that emerged took shape — an otter, silver and exact, curling through the air with easy grace.
"Hermione has a full Patronus!" someone said.
Kevin ruffled her hair. She beamed up at him, eyes crinkling.
"What was the memory?" he asked.
She looked at him with a small, private smile. "Not telling."
"..."
He let her keep it. Turned back to the group.
Hermione played with her otter while the others worked — nudging it, watching it swim. She kept glancing at Kevin.
She'd gone back to first year in her mind. Him stepping up. Her standing frozen and helpless.
Kevin, she thought.
"You say something?" He turned, sharp ears.
"Calling my Patronus," she said primly, looking away. "Don't flatter yourself."
Day before term. Kevin was running a second session when the door opened.
"I heard some students had been self-teaching Patronus." The man who stepped in looked like he'd had a complicated life — patched robes, clean despite the wear, brown hair with a beard, one eye partially obscured by a falling fringe. He moved with quiet, deliberate ease. "I thought it was a rumour."
"Hi, kids. Remus Lupin — your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hope you don't mind if I watch."
"Not at all, Professor," Kevin said. "We've been figuring it out ourselves. Fresh eyes would help."
Lupin smiled and walked over, settling his hands on Kevin's shoulders with the familiarity of someone used to reading people quickly.
"You must be Kevin. Dumbledore mentioned you."
"What did he say, exactly?"
"That you were clever enough to know what adults wanted to hear, and experienced enough to always give them something slightly different." Lupin looked amused. "He said it admiringly."
Harry and the others nodded as though this was a precise and accurate description.
"..."
Kevin reconsidered his self-image as a polite person.
"All right," Lupin said, propping himself on a desk. "Show me what you've got."
He watched without interrupting, which was itself a skill — most adults would have jumped in within two minutes. He caught the specific problems in each student's form with a practised eye, and when he did speak it was brief and aimed precisely: a word to unlock the right memory, a question that found the protective instinct.
Ron had been stuck for three days. Draco for four. Under Lupin's quiet nudging, both of them cracked it within the hour.
Harry's stag emerged, fully corporeal, and lit the room.
Hermione's otter spun twice around Lupin and vanished.
"You've all done brilliantly," Lupin said at the end, looking around with genuine warmth. "Patronus at your age — that's not common. You're a thoughtful group."
He looked at Harry.
"Your parents would be proud of you, Harry."
Harry looked up. "You knew them?"
"Friends, yes. I knew your father well, and your mother." He paused. "I recognised you straightaway — not the scar. Your eyes are hers exactly."
The room very naturally found other things to do. Kevin began steering the group toward the door, gently enough that Harry wouldn't notice.
Let them have this. Lupin had earned ten years of grief and silence for those friendships. He deserved the chance to talk about them.
Kevin herded the last of them out and closed the door softly behind him.
Some conversations didn't need an audience.
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