Chapter 240: The Patronus Charm

Allen couldn’t help thinking of countless things, even beginning to fantasize about his future happy life.

Professor Snape seemed to have sensed Allen’s thoughts.

“Actually, this method has a very low success rate, and that low rate makes the cost extremely high,” Professor Snape said coldly, dousing the enthusiasm.

Allen immediately calmed down—this explanation aligned perfectly with the objective laws of development.

Still, even so, this technique was immensely important to him; mastering it would make it far easier to deliberately shape specific parts of a Magical Creature later.

But judging by Professor Snape’s expression, learning this technique wouldn’t be easy.

“Professor, could you teach me this preservation method?” Allen still decided to try.

Professor Snape glanced at Allen without expression—everything was understood without words.

Allen could only abandon the idea for now and wait for a better opportunity.

Next, he assisted Snape with sampling; Snape’s technique was naturally crude, but knowing some of these samples could be preserved long-term, Allen actually felt a flicker of joy...

The next morning, Allen found the bud on his back gone—he felt a faint pang of regret, for the bud had been so useful.

Today, the random item Allen received was an ordinary animal’s horn; his upgraded talent seemed only to have greatly increased the probability of obtaining non-ordinary animal organs and parts.

In the afternoon, Harry brought Allen news: Professor Lupin had finally recovered, and he planned to resume teaching Harry the Patronus Charm tonight. Harry also told Lupin that Allen wanted to learn the Patronus Charm, and Lupin readily agreed.

That evening, Allen and Harry went to an empty classroom on the fourth floor, where Professor Lupin was already waiting.

Professor Lupin still looked gentle, but a trace of lingering exhaustion clung to his face; his frame had grown even thinner, clearly worn down by recent illness.

Harry had now gained basic control of the Patronus Charm—he could consistently summon a silvery mist from his wand.

After checking Harry’s progress, Professor Lupin had him practice the Patronus Charm under the pressure of a Boggart mimicking a Dementor.

As for Allen, he needed to start from scratch.

In fact, Allen had recently researched and already understood what the Patronus Charm truly was.

The Patronus Charm was one of the most powerful and ancient defensive spells in the wizarding world, and also the most famous. Successfully casting it was extremely difficult; most male and female witches could not cast it, and being able to do so was generally seen as a mark of extraordinary magical ability. Some witches and wizards could only produce formless Patronuses—mere clouds of silvery vapor. A formless Patronus was not a true Patronus; it offered only limited protection, unlike a fully formed one with powerful defensive strength. The Patronus Charm was also among the oldest spells, appearing in many ancient magical legends.

Professor Lupin gave a brief introduction, then moved to the core lesson.

“This spell only works when you focus your thoughts—you must summon, with all your strength, a memory of pure happiness,” Professor Lupin emphasized.

Allen finally understood why Yoder said he couldn’t cast the Patronus Charm—Yoder truly had no happy memories.

Then Professor Lupin taught the incantation and wand movement.

Allen mastered them quickly and began practicing.

Allen racked his brain for happy memories, but sadly found many had faded—he remembered once-joyful moments,

yet now they felt less joyful, even childish.

Still, he didn’t dwell long—he soon found a suitable memory: his past life’s college entrance exam results.

His past-life exam score was excellent; he used it to enter a top university, the brightest moment of his past life’s first half.

He replayed the memory repeatedly, waved his wand, and chanted: “Expecto Patronum!”

Silvery threads appeared at his wand tip, then quickly dissolved into the air.

“Your incantation and wand movement are perfect—the problem is your memory isn’t happy enough,” Professor Lupin pointed out.

Allen tried several other happy memories, but each Patronus produced was nearly identical to the first.

Yet these failures didn’t discourage him; though progress was slow, he kept casting.

During a break, Allen suddenly realized: if past-life memories had faded, he should use present-life ones—closer to now, stronger in feeling.

So he recalled yesterday’s beating of Malfoy, and cast the Patronus Charm again—this time summoning a silvery orb the size of a football, composed entirely of silvery mist.

Allen was stunned: had tying up someone really made him that happy?

He couldn’t believe the inference, yet the result spoke clearly.

He began to examine his own soul: had he become increasingly twisted in mind lately?

He continued practicing, dredging up memories: defeating Quirrell in first year, slaying the Basilisk in second year.

The orb he summoned grew larger each time, yet still took no distinct shape—he still longed to know what animal his Patronus would become.

The lesson ended pleasantly; Professor Lupin was astonished by Allen’s progress, believing he had now caught up fully with Harry.

Though he hadn’t fully mastered the Patronus Charm, Allen began pondering the relationship between Magical Intelligence and the Patronus Charm—they seemed utterly unrelated.

Allen fell into deep confusion, wondering if Mr. Weasley’s clue had been wrong.

Did he have to master the Patronus Charm to the point of summoning a fully formed Patronus?

That would be difficult—the leap from formless to formed was a qualitative leap, with difficulty rising proportionally.

He quickly thought of the Lei Niao’s eyes, and a new idea struck him: what parameters does the Patronus Charm have?