The Patronus Charm can certainly be mass-produced! Of course, there are some prerequisites. In Professor Lockhart's words: when wizards embark on a fairy tale adventure, magic naturally blossoms.
When Lockhart led the young wizards on adventures, he was certainly looking for helpers, but he also gave these young ones an opportunity to improve themselves. This fairy tale adventure-style improvement wasn't illusory. Among the members of the Order of the Phoenix, the resistance organization against Voldemort, every wizard could easily cast a fully-formed Patronus! Don't assume every powerful wizard can do this; magic sometimes defies logic. It's not about what should be, but rather the results that converge through serendipitous chance.
Later, when Harry Potter formed Dumbledore's Army, he effortlessly taught every member of that student army to cast fully-formed Patronuses—something powerful professors at the magical school couldn't achieve, no matter how hard they tried. There are too many examples like this throughout wizarding history. That's why Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape would always say that the members of the Duelling Club and this year's N.E.W.T. advanced class were fortunate.
Fate is truly wondrous sometimes. And what's most marvelous is that this fortune will naturally lead to more results the more experiences one accumulates. Swarms of Dementors descended upon the train. Young wizards who couldn't, or didn't know how to, cast the Patronus Charm could only gain an experience, while those who knew how would further improve because of this encounter and adventure.
"It really is Dementors!" the Weasley twins shouted in unison under the protection of their Patronuses, pushing open the door and rushing out to quickly observe what was happening, whispering the situation to everyone. Their secretive demeanor made many young wizards in the compartment even more nervous.
Percy strode out, abruptly pushing his two younger brothers aside, wand raised, eyes grim as he scanned left and right. Then he turned back to everyone. "Classmates, we must help others. Every student who can cast a Patronus Charm should enter a compartment. If we're short-handed, squeeze into one compartment with others. Don't let these Dementors harm any students!"
"Alright, Head Boy, sir!" George comically stood at attention, saluting.
"Yes, we obey your command!" Fred winked.
It must be said that no matter how mischievous or teasing they appeared, they were still helping Percy establish authority, making everyone more clearly aware that he was the Head Boy, possessing enough authority to make arrangements.
Soon, everyone sprang into action. The older students from Professor Lockhart's N.E.W.T. advanced class headed towards the front of the train, while the younger students from the Duelling Club went towards the rear. Those more adept at combat cast Patronuses and stood at the front. Those good at communication or who had better relationships with classmates entered compartments to speak with others, while those like Hermione, who were more skilled at leadership, began to watch out for dangers other than the Dementors. They were so well-coordinated and acted so swiftly, as if they had rehearsed this sudden encounter many times.
The older students Percy had called over watched them with wide eyes. One pure-blood student, who planned to pursue a career in the Ministry of Magic, couldn't hide his envy and shock, exclaiming, "Merlin's curly beard, Hogwarts has gained an emerging force!" This older student was in his seventh year, and in all his years of schooling, he had never witnessed such collective power—and now, here it was! And it was such a peculiar power.
Unlike groups united by common beliefs or interests, this force seemed to still have Slytherins and Gryffindors unwilling to yield to each other. Hufflepuffs couldn't be bothered with their squabbles, focusing only on practical matters, and Ravenclaws still nimbly and independently found suitable positions for themselves. They all seemed to have their own self-interests, yet they united into a single team. It was as if...
It was as if... He couldn't articulate it. A friend beside him offered the answer. "It's like they all know what they're supposed to do in their positions!"
The answer was very close. Cedric looked back at them with a smile, saying, "We are an adventure team!"
This was a very curious answer. Professor Lockhart had said that an adventure could be a group journey, but ultimately it was a personal one; everyone was the protagonist of their own adventure story. This was a process of disenchantment, making them shift their gaze from the highly renowned 'Savior' or naturally charismatic 'Prefects' or 'Head Boy,' and instead focus on their own adventure experiences.
Just like in that most brilliant era, Hufflepuff alumnus Newt Scamander didn't need to become Dumbledore or Grindelwald. He might seem like a supporting character in others' adventure stories, but why couldn't it also be said that Dumbledore and Grindelwald were supporting characters in his adventure story? This was the most basic principle of 'Fairy Tale Adventure.' Only this way would magic effortlessly blossom within the heart.
As these older students observed, everyone seemed to know what they had to do. The dreadful, desolate atmosphere brought by the Dementors was suffocating. Even as they were driven away down the corridor by Patronuses, everyone's faces turned pale, as if their very life force was draining away. That chilling desolation, constantly feeling as if something was being drawn from them, seemed to silence even the surrounding sounds. Every step they took sounded like a heavy drumbeat on their increasingly fragile minds.
It was then that everyone truly understood why many said Azkaban drove people mad. Even with the Dementors far away, blending into the darkness at the end of the train corridor, the traces of their passage and the faint, spreading influence were still utterly terrifying.
Harry felt a burning pain in his lightning-bolt scar. Shrieking cries echoed in his mind, and countless bizarre, fragmented images flickered repeatedly.
"Harry, are you alright?" Ron asked, worried. Harry had previously shown a markedly worse reaction to the Dementors' negative effects, and that was just a Boggart disguised by Professor Lockhart, clearly different from real Dementors.
"I'm fine!" Harry gritted his teeth, wand raised, slowly moving his Patronus forward. Behind them, Hermione and the others were calling students out of their compartments, gathering everyone into as few compartments as possible, and then assigning someone to guard each. Luna, Ginny, Neville, Goyle, Crabbe...
As they moved further towards the rear half of the train, the number of people who could help them dwindled. Resisting the Dementors lurking in the darkness grew increasingly difficult. Harry finally felt himself falter, his arm trembling as he reached into his pocket for a piece of chocolate, taking a forceful bite, hoping it would help. But it seemed to do no good.
"Merlin's beard!" Just then, Ron suddenly gasped, prompting his friends to look in the direction he was pointing. Through the window beside the train corridor, in the grey gloom, countless enormous Dementor figures, trailing tattered robes, floated in mid-air, encircling the train. Everyone strained to see, feeling as if these Dementors were infinite, their dense figures making the train an isolated island in an ocean of death.
"Quick, they're coming, get into the compartment and guard the door!" Hermione shrieked in terror, urging everyone to run to the nearest compartment door. At this point, it was no longer a question of whether to help the students in the remaining compartments. They were, after all, younger students, and even if they mastered the Patronus Charm, they didn't have enough magical energy to sustain such high-intensity casting. Danger could engulf them completely at any moment.
Hermione was decisive. Everyone quickly pushed open the compartment door and rushed in, only to find a single student huddled, trembling, in a corner. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, guarding the door, trying their best to make their Patronus power withstand the Dementors drifting from the depths of the corridor. Hermione also cast spells, aiming at the window facing outside, attempting to block that opening.
Just then, Draco aimed his wand at the student in the compartment and quickly cast, "Petrificus Totalus!"
"Malfoy! What are you doing!" Hermione shrieked, causing everyone to look at Draco. "You're attacking a fellow student at a time like this, you..."
Before she could finish, a unique rippling pattern shimmered around the student, seemingly a powerful defensive charm.
"This person definitely has a problem!" Draco yelled. The student's body suddenly swelled, rapidly transforming into a middle-aged witch with deeply sunken, cold eyes beneath a mass of wild, tangled hair. Though stereotypes are often wrong, everyone immediately judged her to be a dark witch.
The witch angrily glared at Draco, but then she saw the drifting, tattered robes reflected in the window. She let out a sharp, furious shriek and rapidly cast a spell, making everyone feel as if she was quickly distancing herself from them. It was a very strange sensation of spatial distortion, as if the distance between them and this witch was rapidly stretching and expanding.
"An Undetectable Extension Charm?" Hermione exclaimed, recognizing it. She hadn't realized that spell could be used in such a way.
"Good observation!" the middle-aged witch looked at them with chilling eyes and raised her wand again. "Stop those cursed jailers, or I won't hesitate to let you experience what a Cruciatus Curse feels like!"
Harry immediately reacted. "These Dementors are here for you, aren't they! You Dark Lord lackey!"
Screeeech! A violent, ear-splitting, twisted sound instantly swept through everyone in the compartment, like sharp fingernails scraping a blackboard, sending shivers down their spines. The young wizards almost fainted in unison.
"Dare to call him the Dark Lord again, and I'll kill you immediately!" the middle-aged witch threatened. Hermione's gaze darted quickly between the dark witch and the Dementors at the compartment door. She subtly moved closer to Ron and the others, signaling to Harry and Ron with her eyes, and yelled at the middle-aged witch, "There are many of you, aren't there?"
The middle-aged witch chuckled coldly, laughing like a screech owl, staring at Harry's lightning-bolt scar, licking her dark, cracked lips. "Yes, but it seems only I have caught the so-called Savior!"
"Now!" Hermione suddenly screamed, lunging towards the back of the door. Ron grabbed Draco, and Harry forcefully pulled open the compartment door, shielding them behind it. In an instant, a terrifying, intensely cold desolation seemed to pierce everyone's hearts. Large patches of white frost began to appear in every corner of the compartment, and a tall, horrifying figure slowly drifted in.
"Ahhh!" the dark witch shrieked in terror. "Don't take me to Azkaban, don't take me to Azkaban! I was almost successful..."
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