The Patronus horse galloped joyfully down from the air, circling Lockhart with a playful prance.
Voldemort's curse had vanished at some point, but Lockhart was too distracted to care about that now. His attention was wholly on his Patronus.
It was a truly wondrous experience. He gently stroked the horse's mane, sensing it wasn't a living creature—not like a forest elf's grey wolf or some magical beast. No, this was something else entirely.
It was the embodiment of his inner joy.
Yes, that's how simple its nature was. Through the power of magic, the beauty in his heart had taken form, standing before him, protecting him.
No wonder people always said the Patronus Charm was the most effective spell against dark magic. When a wizard's inner light became this tangible, this real, the malice, gloom, and aggression of dark magic would simply melt away in its presence.
In modern wizarding society, few ancient spells remained unchanged. Many had been abandoned or refined over generations, but a handful of charms retained their original form. The Patronus Charm was one of them.
Lockhart's companions—his little magical creatures—hopped out, curiously inspecting this radiant horse. They weren't afraid of it, which was fascinating. They could sense a soothing, calming aura from Lockhart's Patronus, and it made them feel utterly at ease.
The young witches and wizards joined in, tentatively reaching out to touch the glowing creature. After a while, the boldest of them—a little golden-furred critter—leapt onto the horse's head, curling up like a shiny, golden cap.
Just then, a voice came from the corner of the Headmaster's office. "I can feel your heart through your magic."
Lockhart spun around, startled, to find Dumbledore standing there, studying his Patronus with keen interest.
"It's full of life," Dumbledore remarked, his voice tinged with awe. "I've never imagined a scene where dark magical creatures could coexist so harmoniously with a Patronus."
Lockhart blinked, pointing at the glowing horse. "Your Patronus can't do that?"
Dumbledore smiled gently, shaking his head. He gestured for Lockhart to sit at the desk, clapped his hands, and two steaming cups of tea appeared. Taking a sip, he explained, "That's a trait of gifted wizards like you. To us ordinary folk, magic is just magic."
Ordinary folk? Lockhart nearly choked. Dumbledore calling himself ordinary? Was this some kind of humblebrag?
Dumbledore seemed in a talkative mood, diving into the differences. "I've heard your lessons to the students. You said, 'Magic chooses the wizard. The wizard adjusts their mindset and actions to embrace it, blending heart and magic perfectly.' And that bit about 'stepping into a fairy tale to let magic bloom naturally'…"
He paused, as if savoring the words, then shook his head. "It's profound. It's given me much to think about."
"I've often struggled to understand my old friend Newt Scamander," he continued. "He's not as eloquent as you, always explaining things so clearly. It's caused some… communication issues. But now, I'm starting to get it."
Dumbledore's voice had a warm, reflective quality. "You and Newt open your hearts to the world, yet you stay attuned to your own feelings. You're part of the world but apart from it—a remarkable way to live."
He toyed with the odd ring on his finger, glancing up at Lockhart. "I'm different. I choose magic."
He chooses magic, not the other way around.
Lockhart listened, intrigued, as Dumbledore elaborated. "We—people like me—focus on the world itself, but in doing so, we often close off our hearts. We want to change the world but fear it changing us. We fear magic changing us."
He gestured vaguely. "Whether it's the negative emotions from dark magic…" He nodded toward the corner, where the Patronus was playing with the dark creatures. "Or the overly positive emotions from ordinary magic."
"We focus on the world, but right and wrong, morality, rules—they all blur because the world is messy. So we avoid extremes. Dark magic can't taint us with its malice, and a Patronus can't overwhelm us with joy. We don't let magic sway us."
"By closing off our hearts, we become more… self-contained. Not extreme, but intensely ourselves. Our magic draws on that unyielding sense of self to wield great power and change the world."
Two paths of magic, utterly opposed. Neither right nor wrong, neither stronger nor weaker—just different.
The office's lamplight glinted off Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, hiding his eyes. But Lockhart could sense the complex emotions swirling in the old man across the desk.
"I'm bringing this up because Harry Potter isn't suited for your path," Dumbledore said.
Lockhart froze, a wild thought flashing through his mind. He stared at the man hailed as the greatest wizard of their time, hesitating before blurting out, "You didn't catch him?"
Him. Voldemort.
The office fell silent. A strange tension hung in the air, thick as dust, making Lockhart hold his breath.
After a long moment, a sigh broke the quiet.
"Yes. Nothing."
Dumbledore leaned back in his high-backed chair, looking weary. "He was cautious enough. The moment you used the Portkey, he realized only I could craft one that works within Hogwarts. He vanished immediately."
Even Dumbledore, the great wizard, felt defeat. Especially after Lockhart had risked his life to tip him off, only for Voldemort to slip away.
No one knew what it felt like for Dumbledore to stand in that empty spider lair, casting powerful spells and finding no trace of Tom Riddle's escape.
Perhaps this wasn't the first time. Maybe it started years ago—waiting for the so-called "Chosen One" to grow up on Privet Drive, or when Voldemort killed his students, James and Lily. Or maybe when he stopped trusting his wand and started pinning hopes on Trelawney's prophecy.
He was old. Not in body, but in spirit. Tired, scarred, perhaps forever stuck on the day he locked Gellert Grindelwald in Nurmengard.
Who could say?
Life moves forward, but the heart can linger in the past. Just like Severus.
Dumbledore sensed Lockhart's shock—no Legilimency needed. His long life had taught him to read the disbelief, surprise, and pity in the younger man's eyes.
He didn't want pity.
It stung, just a little.
Clearing his throat, he shifted topics. "I heard your lesson on the three stages of the Patronus Charm. It was insightful, but you got one thing wrong."
"You spoke of a state where 'life is full of beauty.' In my hundred-plus years, I've met few who live like that. Those who do? They don't easily fit into this complicated world."
Seeing Lockhart's attention shift, he spread his hands. "Life is messy. People who are too positive—or too negative—are often seen as oddballs."
"Arthur Weasley, for example, has a heart full of beauty, but even he doesn't reach the level you described. His Patronus can speak and deliver messages not because of that state, but because I taught the Order of the Phoenix a spell I invented."
He drew his Elder Wand, performing a complex flourish. "*Communico Anima!*"
Seeing Lockhart's curiosity, Dumbledore began guiding him through the spell, pinpointing exactly why Lockhart's attempts faltered. A master's guidance made all the difference—Dumbledore chose magic, not the other way around, and his precision showed it.
"*Communico Anima!*"
Lockhart cast the spell at his Patronus horse, and a strange sensation washed over him—like his senses were stretching, twisting, linking with the horse.
"Wow!"
The exclamation came from the horse's mouth, startling the golden-furred creature atop its head.
Lockhart waved his wand again, breaking the connection, and mulled over the subtle feeling. His eyes lit up as he gestured to Dumbledore. "It's the wand! It's extending my will!"
Dumbledore's own eyes widened. "I knew I was right about you. You are gifted. Many in the Order struggle to grasp the essence of this spell."
Understanding a spell's essence was a whole different level.
Lockhart repeated the complex wand movements, a new idea sparking. "This motion—it amplifies our will? No, wait—it tightens the bond between me and my wand!"
Without waiting for a reply, he combined the motion with a Cleaning Charm. "*Scourgify!*"
He aimed at his robes, and they sparkled clean as expected. But the feeling was different. His will infused the spell, boosting its strength by leaps and bounds.
"That's incredible!" he exclaimed to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stared, stunned, before breaking into a smile. "I know plenty more 'little tricks' like that. Come by my office sometime, and I'd be happy to share them."
Little tricks? Lockhart's heart raced. You call this a little trick?
He was already buzzing with anticipation for more of these "masterclasses" from the greatest wizard of their time.