bacchusnovels Chapter 344 Harry's First Tutoring
Chapter 344 Harry's First Tutoring
Chapter 344 Harry's First Tutoring
A few days later, school resumed classes.
On a cold January morning, spending two hours on the playground was the last thing anyone wanted to do, but Hagrid lit a big fire with a fire monster burning inside, bringing some amusement to everyone.
The students gathered around the fire, collecting dry branches and leaves to keep it burning, while fire-loving lizards leaped and jumped on the hot wood.
It creates a lively scene.
However, the first class of the new term was much less interesting: Professor Trelawney taught them palmistry and bluntly told Harry that the lifeline on his hand was the shortest she had ever seen.
Harry's favorite subjects were Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies.
After speaking with Wood, he was eager to learn how to fend off Dementors. After a Muggle Studies class, Harry reminded Sean that he had promised to teach him how to fight off Dementors.
“Ah, yes,” Sean replied, “let me see—how about nine o’clock this weekend? The History of Magic classroom should be big enough. I need to think carefully about what to do—we can’t exactly bring a real Dementor to practice, can we? But perhaps…”
Sean was about to say something more, but Harry quickly nodded, interrupting his train of thought.
"Yes, it would be best to find a substitute for the Dementor."
Given Professor Phillips's level of expertise, Harry had no doubt that he could actually bring over a real Dementor for him to practice with.
But to be honest, he was a little hesitant about a real Dementor. If he could find a substitute Dementor for practice, that would be the best thing ever.
Hearing Harry's words, Sean nodded, his expression becoming serious. "I'll prepare some props to make it as realistic as possible for you. But remember to stay alert; Dementors are no joke."
"I know, Professor," Harry clenched his fist, "I can't wait any longer."
They discussed the details, and as they left the classroom, students began to gather around, chatting about the new semester's courses and upcoming competitions.
Harry was filled with anticipation for the future, hoping to master some practical skills to deal with Schrödinger's Dementors.
"If I could learn how to fend off Dementors, maybe I could win the next Quidditch match," Harry muttered to himself.
"What did you say?" Sean asked, turning his head.
"It's nothing," Harry quickly corrected himself, "I'm just looking forward to our class."
"Then get ready for the weekend." Sean smiled back, then said goodbye to Harry, and they each headed to their respective classrooms for the next class.
Harry encountered the other three children in the hallway leading to the Transfiguration classroom.
"He still looks sickly, doesn't he?" Ron said as he walked, taking the textbook for the next class out of his bag.
Without needing to mention a name, the group immediately knew who "he" Ron was referring to.
"What do you think is wrong with him?" Harry replied, glancing around.
Hermione's impatient "beep" suddenly came from behind her. She was sitting next to a suit of armor, trying to organize her backpack full of books.
There are too many books; the schoolbag can't even be closed properly.
"What are you babbling at us about?" Ron frowned, looking impatient.
"It's nothing," Hermione replied haughtily, casually tossing her backpack back onto her shoulder.
"No, what is it?" Ron insisted. "I just said I didn't know what was wrong with Lupin, and you said, 'Ah, isn't it obvious?'" Hermione turned around, her tone full of irritating superiority.
"If you don't want to tell us, then don't." Ron raised his voice, sounding even angrier.
"Fine," Hermione replied coldly, turning and leaving.
Sofia thought for a moment and quickly followed.
"She doesn't know either," Ron muttered, glaring at Hermione's retreating figure. "She just wants us to talk to her again."
At eight o'clock on a weekend evening, Harry walked out of the Gryffindor Tower, through the quiet corridors, and into the History of Magic classroom.
The classroom was dimly lit and empty, with a chilling stillness permeating the air.
He took out his wand and waved it gently. "Flash," and the classroom lights came on, dispelling the chill.
Harry waited only five minutes before Sean pushed open the door and entered, carrying a huge bundle on his shoulder.
He walked straight to Professor Binns's podium and placed the bag steadily on it.
"What's that?" Harry couldn't help but ask curiously, his gaze fixed on the mysterious package.
“Another Boggart.” Sean took off his cloak and smiled. “Since Tuesday, I’ve been searching the entire castle for a suitable practice partner.”
"I was lucky; I found this Boggart in Mr. Filch's cupboard."
"It's the closest thing we can find to a Dementor."
"When it sees you, it will turn into a Dementor—that way we can use it for practice."
Harry nodded, feeling slightly relieved, though he was still somewhat uneasy about the challenges ahead.
“When we’re not using it, I can hide it in my office,” Sean continued, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I have a little cupboard under my desk; I think it would love it.”
"Okay." Harry tried his best to remain calm, though he still had some doubts, but he was mostly relieved that Professor Phillips had found this alternative.
Sean pulled his wand from his bag and waved it gently, gesturing for Harry to take out his wand as well. "I'm going to teach you a very advanced spell, Harry, far beyond the capabilities of ordinary wizards." His tone was solemn and serious. "This spell is called the Patronus Charm."
"How does it work?" Harry asked nervously and anxiously.
Sean calmly replied, "When it is successfully cast, it summons a Guardian Angel. The Guardian Angel is a force that protects against Dementors; it acts as a barrier between you and the Dementors, safeguarding you from harm."
As Harry listened, a comical image suddenly flashed into his mind of himself hiding behind a giant like Hagrid, holding a big club.
But Professor Phillips' explanation quickly brought him back to reality.
“The Patronus is a pure positive energy,” Sean continued, his tone serious. “The power it contains is the exact opposite of that of the Dementors. Dementors feed on hope, joy, and the will to live, but the Patronus is filled with these positive emotions, and it cannot feel despair like a human. Therefore, the Dementors cannot harm it.”
"However, I must warn you, Harry," he paused, looking at Harry seriously, "this spell is difficult even for many seasoned wizards. It requires strong willpower and pure emotional support—and it may be even more difficult for you."
Harry swallowed hard, still wondering, "What do Patronuses look like?"
“Everyone’s Patronus is different,” Sean explained. “It takes on a unique form based on the inner image of the caster. No two wizards have the exact same Patronus.”
"So how did you summon it?" Harry pressed, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and longing.
Sean nodded and said patiently, "This spell only works when you focus your attention on a very happy memory. You must try your best to recall those hopeful and happy moments."
Harry began frantically searching his mind for any happy memories he could think of.
Memories of the Dursleys flashed through his mind—memories that clearly had nothing to do with happiness.
Finally, he remembered the first time he rode a flying broomstick, and the freedom and excitement he felt at that moment still seemed to linger in his heart. "Yes, that's it." Harry nodded, trying to recall that wonderful feeling, especially the moment the flying broomstick took off.
Sean smiled slightly, as if encouraging him: "The incantation is—'Patriot Protection'."
"Put Your God on the doorstep," Harry repeated softly, silently repeating in his mind, "Put Your God on the doorstep."
Sean reminded him again, "Focus your attention and try to only think about your happy moment, okay?"
Harry nodded quickly, forcing himself to return to that moment of flight, to the exhilarating feeling of soaring freely like a bird.
He took a deep breath and silently chanted the incantation again: "Call upon God for protection, call upon God for protection—"
Just as he was trying to concentrate, his wand suddenly emitted a wisp of silver smoke, which looked like some kind of thin gas.
"Did you see that?" Harry exclaimed excitedly, his eyes sparkling.
"Very good, Harry," Professor Sean nodded with a smile, "You're starting to make a difference. But now we need a real test—to deal with a Dementor."
"Are you ready?"
"Alright." Harry gripped his wand tightly, walked to the center of the classroom, and tried to recall the joyful moment of his first time riding a flying broomstick.
However, other memories kept flooding his mind, interfering with him—especially his mother's screams.
Every second, there was a chance he could hear her voice again—he didn't want to think about it, but he seemed unable to control it—did he really not want to hear that voice again, or did he want to?
Professor Sean opened the lid of the package, and a Dementor slowly emerged from the box.
The hooded, terrifying face was facing Harry, its rotting hand clutching its cloak. The lights around the classroom flickered and then went out. The Dementor slid out of the box, slowly approaching Harry, letting out a deep gasp.
A bone-chilling cold instantly enveloped the entire classroom.
"Panic!" Harry shouted, "Panic! Patronus—"
As he spoke, the classroom light began to blur, and Harry suddenly felt himself sinking back into that thick white fog.
His mother's voice rang out again, clearer and sharper, piercing his eardrums: "Don't touch Harry! Don't touch Harry! Please—I'll do anything you want—"
"Get out of the way—get out of the way, girl—"
"Harry!"
Harry was jolted back to reality by Sean's urgent call.
He lay on his back on the floor, and the classroom lights returned to normal.
You don't need to ask to know what just happened.
"I'm sorry," Harry muttered softly, struggling to sit up and feeling cold sweat trickling down his glasses.
"Are you alright?" Sean asked with concern.
"It's nothing," Harry forced a smile and slowly sat down at a table.
"Here, have some." Sean handed over a chocolate frog. "Eat this before we try again. Actually, I don't expect you to succeed on your first try. To be honest, I'd be surprised if you did."
After all, this wasn't some so-called Boggart, but a Dementor he had captured a couple of days ago.
He went to great lengths to get this Dementor.
He believed that if Harry knew the truth, he would be moved to tears.
“It’s worse,” Harry grumbled, biting off the frog’s head. “This time I heard her voice louder—and his Voldemort-like voice—”
"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I completely understand," Sean advised.
"No! I'm going to keep going!" Harry suddenly became agitated, his mind made up. He quickly stuffed the remaining chocolate into his mouth. "What if the Dementors show up again during the Ravenclaw game? I can't fall again. If we lose the game, we lose the Quidditch Trophy!"
"Okay—" Sean sighed, "Maybe you could try choosing another, more intense, happy memory. The one you just remembered doesn't seem to be enough to keep you focused."
Harry lowered his head in thought, trying to find a happier memory.
Finally, he decided to fantasize about the moment when Gryffindor would win the House Cup this year, a moment of victory that would surely be incredibly joyful.
He gripped his wand tightly and stood once again in the center of the classroom, ready to face the next challenge.
"Ready?" Sean asked, gripping the lid of the box again.
"Ready?" Harry tried to fill his mind with the memory of Gryffindor's victory and not let other negative emotions affect him.
"Begin!" Sean abruptly pulled open the lid, plunging the classroom back into cold darkness. The Dementor slid silently toward Harry, its rotting arm reaching out towards him. It inhaled Harry's terrifying aura deeply, as if trying to devour his last vestige of joy.
"Panic!" Harry shouted desperately, "Panic! Patronus—"
The white mist enveloped his thoughts once again.
A blurry figure appeared before his eyes, followed by a new voice—a man's voice, filled with despair and terror: "Lily, take Harry! Run! It's him! I'll stop him—" The door suddenly burst open, and a sharp laugh echoed in the air.
"Harry! Harry—wake up!"
Sean gently patted Harry's cheek to wake him up.
This time, it took Harry longer than before to realize he was lying on the classroom floor.
It seems he has failed again.
But this time, he heard his father's voice.
If, he meant if.
Under the constant stimulation of the Dementors, could he recall more things and hear more voices—although these things...are somewhat cruel?