Just before Snape gasped, Wyzett felt a sudden, strange sensation—like a message flickering through his mind.
He caught a lazy, almost perfunctory sort of flattery in the tone, as if someone was muttering:
"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right!"
"Of course, your sacred name shall never be uttered!"
"No problem, I'll handle everything just as you wish!"
…
The last time he'd sensed something like this was when he'd unexpectedly crossed paths with Draco's father—Lucius Malfoy.
Professor Snape's reaction was nearly identical to Lucius's: both instinctively reached their right hand across to grasp their left forearm.
Wyzett immediately stood, concern etched on his face. "Professor Snape, are you alright?"
Snape didn't answer. His eyes flickered with a cold, conflicted glint, his expression a storm of tension and struggle. Lips pressed into a tight line, brows knotted together so tightly they seemed to twist into a single cord.
Seeing such a display of emotion on Snape's face unsettled Wyzett. He realized, for the first time, just how many shades of feeling the Potions Master could show. Something significant must have happened.
"You…" Snape finally spoke, his voice wary, shadowed, and ice-cold. "What's the current state of your Obscurus?"
"My Obscurus?" Wyzett blinked, puzzled, but answered honestly. "I went to Sweden recently. All the risks tied to the Obscurus have been eliminated."
Snape's cheeks puffed slightly. "Prove it."
Wyzett nodded and, without hesitation, called forth Primordial Power: Obscurus Form (Basic). Black mist curled around him, swirling with a restrained, eerie energy.
As the first professor to warn him to be ever-vigilant, Snape had earned Wyzett's trust.
Snape gripped his wand tightly, eyes narrowed, and approached the black mist with utmost caution. The tip of his wand glowed with a gentle silver light, stirring the darkness, probing for hidden dangers.
After several tense passes, he extinguished the silver glow and lowered his wand, some of the tension easing from his features.
"Follow me," he commanded, gathering his robes and vanishing from the office with a speed that brooked no argument.
Wyzett quickly dispelled the black mist and hurried after him.
…
On the way, Wyzett ran into Harry and Ron, just returning from training. Harry looked utterly exhausted, his robes streaked with mud—clearly the victim of some grueling practice.
He was in no mood to tangle with Snape. Unfortunately, Snape was in a peculiar mood and snapped, "Wandering the corridors in that state? Two points from Gryffindor."
He strode off, his step noticeably lighter.
"Snape!" Harry growled at the retreating figure.
"Scourgify!" Wyzett flicked his wand, the Scouring Charm whisking the mud from Harry's robes.
With that, he hurried to catch up with Snape.
Harry watched them disappear. "Ron… should we tell Professor McGonagall?"
"That we lost points for no reason?" Ron shook his head. "Or that Wyzett's gone off with Snape on some mad errand? Neither sounds like a good idea…"
Harry nodded, sighing. "Yeah… take care, mate."
"Wyzett'll be fine," Ron reassured him. "I heard from the Hufflepuffs, Snape's never docked him points."
Snape led Wyzett to an abandoned classroom. As soon as Wyzett stepped inside, a battered wooden chest in the corner suddenly jumped and crashed to the floor with a loud bang.
"Boggart. Do you know what it is?" Snape asked.
Wyzett nodded. "A strange creature—it takes the shape of whatever we fear most."
Snape didn't answer. Instead, he pressed his wand to his temple and drew out a thin, silver strand—a memory. Wyzett recognized the signs of advanced mental magic: Snape was extracting and altering a sliver of memory.
After a few breaths, Snape returned the silver thread to his temple. "Lesson's changed. You need to master the Patronus Charm by the end of today."
"The Patronus Charm?" Wyzett echoed. He'd only read about it in The Book of Spells.
The magic was shrouded in mystery. He'd searched for its origins, but could only find whispers that it had existed since ancient times.
To cast the spell was to summon a magical guardian—a Patronus.
For most wizards, the Patronus would appear as nothing more than a shapeless cloud of silver mist. But that wasn't true mastery. Only those who could conjure a corporeal Patronus—a guardian with a true, tangible form—were said to have mastered the charm.
Wizards capable of producing a corporeal Patronus were often singled out for high honors by the Wizengamot or the Ministry of Magic.
The reason for this distinction wasn't just the spell's complexity. To cast it, one had to summon the most powerful, positive emotions.
For Dark wizards, the Patronus Charm was nearly impossible. If they tried to force it, the spell would backfire—sometimes fatally.
"Exactly—the Patronus Charm," Snape continued. "Even after you've learned it, I may test you at any time. You must be able to cast it whenever I ask."
"Understood!" Wyzett nodded, eager for the challenge.
Snape's expression softened a little as he delved into the details. "Patience and soul—these are what you must focus on."
"Once you can cast the spell, you can use the incantation to consciously explore your inner self. Remember—this must be a deliberate, active process."
Snape explained that by focusing on the incantation—Expecto Patronum—one could draw out positive emotions and connect with the soul itself.
This was a unique insight; Wyzett hadn't seen anything like it in The Book of Spells.
That book simply advised the caster to recall happy memories to increase the spell's success rate.
Happiness was the easiest positive emotion for most people to access.
But happiness wasn't the only positive emotion.
Love—for family, for a partner, for friends—could be even more powerful.
Gratitude, inspiration, hope, pride, optimism, compassion…
All of these were positive emotions, and any of them could be channeled into the Patronus Charm.
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