Chapter 243

Allen stared in surprise as Harry summoned a nearly fully formed Patronus; he knew Harry had shown extraordinary talent only in learning the Disarming Charm, while otherwise always lagging behind him—yet now Harry displayed unexpected aptitude for the Patronus Charm.

Allen waved his wand with reluctant frustration, and as expected, another small cloud of silvery mist emerged, even smaller than before.

He had to search his memories again, trying to find one that could stir up joy within him.

“Professor, I think I’ve found that feeling,” Harry suddenly said. “I’d like to try again.”

“Oh? What have you thought of now?” Professor Lupin asked gently.

“Yes,” Harry grinned, pressing a hand to his chest, his joy unmistakable. “Just now, when I learned my father’s Patronus was also a stag, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness...”

Professor Lupin’s gaze softened further. He stared directly at Harry, studying his face as if lost in memory.

Allen even saw a glimmer of moisture in Lupin’s eyes—he didn’t understand why Lupin reacted so strongly.

“Try again,” Lupin whispered, his voice now slightly hoarse.

Harry didn’t notice any of this. He raised his wand and let himself sink once more into that surge of positive emotion...

It wasn’t hard for Harry. He recalled everything he knew about his father, and happiness swelled in his chest.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry shouted the incantation with the loudest, most joyful voice he’d ever used.

A beam of silvery light burst from his wand tip; whether it was an illusion or not, Harry felt this light was brighter than ever before.

Amid the dazzling silver glow, a tall figure rapidly took shape.

Large, branching antlers, a long and agile body and limbs, a small, delicate tail...

Undoubtedly, it was a stag.

“You’ve done it, Potter—” Professor Lupin gazed spellbound at the beautiful creature, murmuring, his voice tinged with complexity.

Allen sharply sensed something unusual in Lupin’s tone. Ever since Hermione had hinted that Lupin might be a werewolf, he’d quietly paid close attention to him—and that was why he’d noticed Lupin’s odd behavior just now.

Lupin’s mood today was strangely erratic! Allen thought to himself.

And Lupin had always called Harry by his first name—so why had he just called him “Potter”? That was another thing Allen couldn’t understand.

Harry leapt up in excitement, eager to high-five Allen and Lupin.

Though it stung to be outshone, Allen genuinely rejoiced for his friend.

After the excitement faded, Harry gazed lovingly at his newly summoned Patronus. He reached out instinctively to touch it—and the stag Patronus gently lowered its head, nuzzling his outstretched palm. Harry’s hand passed lightly through the creature’s body; though it looked solid, it was still composed entirely of silvery mist.

This was Allen’s first time seeing a fully formed Patronus summoned by a wizard. Though Professor Lupin had taught them the Patronus Charm, he had never revealed his own Patronus form.

Allen watched with intense focus, and the stag Patronus did not disappoint—it displayed signs of perception, thought, and behavior, all indicators of intelligence.

It seemed Weasley hadn’t misled him—the Patronus Charm was indeed the key.

The stag Patronus soon vanished within the abandoned classroom, plunging the room into dimness.

After a moment of contemplation, Allen turned his gaze toward Harry beside him.

He decided to ask Harry for advice—he didn’t care about pride or face.

“Harry, when you summoned your full Patronus, were you only thinking that your father’s Patronus was the same as yours?”

Harry patiently answered Allen’s question, detailing his inner journey.

“I also remembered Professor McGonagall once telling me my father was a Seeker too—whether in Quidditch or in Patronus form, it made me feel incredibly close to him...”

Allen listened carefully to Harry’s account and felt he had gained something valuable.

Yet when he tried again several times afterward, he still couldn’t summon a full Patronus—instead, the mist grew even fainter.

“Everyone’s personality and experiences differ, so what brings them joy differs too—even the same person may draw upon different memories when casting the Patronus Charm at different times. Harry’s method can only give you a direction; it doesn’t mean you can replicate his success by simply copying his thoughts,” Professor Lupin prompted Allen to analyze further.

“Think carefully: what in Harry’s memory generated that positive emotion? What was the essence of that emotion?” Lupin was patient.

Allen now fell into deep thought.

What was the essence of the strong positive emotion Harry had tapped into? Was it familial love? Allen thought rapidly.

He tried recalling his own familial bonds, attempting to use them to stir emotion—but quickly realized it was futile.

Allen realized his own sense of family differed fundamentally from Harry’s.

Harry’s familial love was boundless longing for his parents—he lost them very young, and his image of them was entirely idealized. That’s why discovering his father’s Patronus matched his own stirred such intense emotion so easily.

But Allen was different. He wasn’t truly an orphan. When he thought of his parents now, he felt only pain and guilt—they had worked tirelessly to raise him, and he had abruptly left them in their prime. How heartbroken they must have been. How would they endure the rest of their lives?

So when Allen thought of his parents, of family, he could not summon any positive emotion.

When he tried recalling happy moments from his past life, the fact of his transmigration always gave him a sense of detachment—he couldn’t stir emotion either.

After trying several different methods and failing repeatedly, Allen finally stopped and began thinking again.

What was the true essence behind Harry’s ability to summon emotion?

It seemed to be a feeling of love unattainable—yet one that had, in some measure, been fulfilled.

(https://)

Please remember the original domain of this novel: . Mobile reading URL: