The new term began the very next morning, and the sixth-year students were greeted with a pleasant surprise: a large notice had been pinned to the bulletin board the night before, announcing lessons in Apparition.
When Snape and Abbott entered the common room, they were immediately drawn to a burst of excited chatter.
"Wow!" gasps of amazement erupted again and again from the crowd.
They squeezed their way forward toward the bulletin board. The notice was already surrounded by students, all lined up to sign their names. After much jostling and shoving, the two of them finally managed to add their own signatures.
"Hey, don't be silly," a student said, turning to his excited friend. "You can't Apparate in here. It doesn't work inside the castle."
"That goes without saying," another student replied smugly. "Anyone who's read Hogwarts: A History would know that, wouldn't they?"
"Yeah, I think only a troll wouldn't know that..."
The students continued chatting animatedly about Apparition.
After a while, Snape and Abbott managed to squeeze their way out of the noisy crowd and left the dungeons, planning to get breakfast before class.
"Severus has already Apparated before," Abbott said proudly to Pandora outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Someone side-along Apparated him last year, you know?"
"I didn't know that," Pandora replied cheerfully. "You seem to know Severus better than I do."
"I've done side-along Apparition a few times last year," Snape interjected quickly, his expression somewhat complicated. "Trust me, it's not pleasant. You wouldn't enjoy it.
"For a moment, everything goes dark. It feels like a thousand invisible hands are squeezing you from every direction. Your chest feels like it's being crushed by iron bands, and you can't breathe at all.
"You even feel your eyeballs being pushed back into your skull, your eardrums forced deep into your head... and then suddenly you're spat out of something like an impossibly narrow rubber tube. Only then can you finally breathe again."
As Snape spoke, he unconsciously mimed the sensations with his hands.
The other sixth-years nearby were fascinated and crowded around, bombarding him with questions about how Apparition felt.
Mary threw question after question, and when Snape looked up while answering one, he caught sight of Lily among the crowd.
She was standing quietly, listening intently, her bright red hair standing out strikingly among the others.
They hadn't spoken since that day at the end of fifth year, outside the Gryffindor Tower.
Of course, Snape had no intention of forcing a conversation.
It wasn't a matter of avoidance or confrontation. To him, the girl from his memories and the Lily standing there now felt different, as though the one in his memory were only a shadow, and not quite the same person at all.
Perhaps, he thought, it was like a saying from his past life: "No one can compare to the version of you in my memory, not even you now."
Maybe what he needed was a chance to meet her anew.
Back to the present, after hearing Snape's description of the discomfort of Apparition, the students did not lose interest at all. Instead, they looked at him with admiration and anticipation.
It wasn't until Professor Grapeland deliberately cleared her throat several times that they reluctantly shuffled to their seats.
"Quiet! Quiet!" Professor Grapeland raised her voice again, her stern gaze sweeping across the classroom. "Do you want to be the sort of wizard who, when faced with a Dementor or its Kiss, can do nothing but tremble in fear?!"
She suddenly turned, pointing to a picture pinned on the blackboard.
The picture showed a wizard curled up in a corner, eyes vacant, as if his soul had been sucked away.
"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that exist," Professor Grapeland said, her voice low and grave. She picked up another picture of a Dementor and held it up for everyone to see.
The figure in the picture was shadowy and indistinct, but beneath its cloak, they could faintly see rotting limbs covered in slime and blotches.
"They prefer to keep themselves hidden beneath their cloaks, lurking in the darkest, filthiest places. They live among rot and despair, draining peace, hope, and happiness from the very air around them.
"Even Muggles can feel their presence. Though they cannot see Dementors, when one approaches, every good feeling, every happy memory is sucked out of them.
"If given the chance, a Dementor will drain you until you're just like it, soulless and filled with evil. After receiving a Dementor's Kiss, all that remains of you are the worst memories of your life, an empty shell."
"Professor," a student asked in a trembling voice, "I heard they guard Azkaban?"
"Yes, they do," Professor Grapeland said with a frown. "That prison sits alone on a remote island in the middle of the sea.
"Azkaban doesn't need high walls or deep waters to keep prisoners confined, because they're trapped inside their own minds, unable to summon even a single happy thought, much less attempt escape.
"For centuries, the Ministry of Magic has used Dementors as the guards of Azkaban, foolishly believing it to be a permanent solution."
She sighed and shook her head.
"Perhaps this goes without saying, but remember to obey the law, and avoid ending up in Azkaban.
"Over two hundred years ago, there was a Minister of Magic named Eldritch Diggory who inspected Azkaban.
"He found the conditions inside were horrific. The Dementors had sucked away all joy and every trace of positive emotion.
"People died from despair, and those few who survived had almost all gone mad. The place had become a paradise for Dementors."
"Do such monsters really exist, Professor?" Peter Pettigrew asked in a squeaky, nervous voice, his small eyes flashing with fear. "If they do, someone must be keeping them under control, right?"
"I'm afraid not, Peter. Their existence is beyond doubt. They're merely confined in Azkaban, for now.
"As for your second question, on that point, I agree with Headmaster Dumbledore: Dementors have never truly served anyone. They follow only those who can provide them with more human victims.
"If anyone can 'control' them, I'd say they'd obey the Dark Lord before they ever listened to the Ministry."
A collective gasp spread through the class, as if an unseen Dementor were lurking among them, exhaling icy air.
Wormtail looked even more terrified, trembling slightly as he gnawed on his fingernails.
"Then how can we destroy them?" Lily's calm voice broke the heavy silence. "If there's no way to defeat them, the Dementors won't stay put in Azkaban forever. And if that's the case, what's the purpose of this lesson?"
Professor Grapeland gave Lily an approving nod. She stepped down from the podium and slowly walked among the students.
"To this day, wizards have not discovered a way to completely destroy Dementors. All we can do is drive them away temporarily.
"A wizard who masters the Patronus Charm can summon a Patronus, a protector, a shield that stands between you and the Dementor."
She continued, "The Patronus is a positive force, the embodiment of the very things Dementors feed upon, hope, happiness, the desire to survive. But unlike a human, a Patronus cannot feel despair, and therefore a Dementor cannot harm it."
"Bear in mind," Professor Grapeland warned, scanning the class seriously, "the Patronus Charm is very advanced magic. Many skilled wizards never master it. Only a few of you will.
"And more importantly, summoning a Patronus in the safety of a classroom is entirely different from doing so when you're truly facing a Dementor."
But her warning had the opposite effect; rather than feeling daunted, the students looked even more determined. None of them believed they would be among those who failed.
"What does a Patronus look like?" Abbott asked curiously.
"It usually takes the form of an animal," Professor Grapeland replied patiently. "An animal with which you share the deepest affinity."
"How do you make it appear?"
"Can two wizards have the same Patronus?"
The questions came one after another, filling the classroom with chatter once more.
"Quiet!" Professor Grapeland finally returned to the podium and banged the desk sharply, the loud "bang, bang" echoing until everyone fell silent again.
"Every Patronus is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it," she said firmly. "I've never seen two identical ones.
"To cast it, you must speak the incantation while focusing all your thoughts on an especially happy memory. Only then will the spell work."
"The incantation is-" She cleared her throat. "Expecto Patronum! Remember, think hard about your happiest moment! Now, everyone, practice freely. Come to me if you have questions."
The spell's difficulty surpassed everyone's expectations.
The classroom echoed with countless attempts of "Expecto Patronum!" but most wands did nothing at all.
Only a few managed to produce faint wisps of silvery mist, like morning fog over the lake, quickly fading away again.
Snape stood up, searching desperately through his memories for the happiest moment he could recall.
Naturally, the memories from his former life were useless. Those had to be discarded.
As for the memories from his previous world, although they filled most of his life, looking back now, they were mostly crowded with exhaustion and work.
Growing up, studying, working, there had always been someone saying, "Once you do this, things will get better," yet there was always another "this" waiting ahead.
Yes, there had been happy moments, but he doubted those would ever be enough to conjure a Patronus. Perhaps it wasn't even worth trying, he thought.
In the end, he chose certain moments from his life in this world.
"Expecto Patronum," Snape mouthed silently. "Expecto Patronum."
His thoughts drifted to an old set of Gobstones, then to a slightly rough handmade wallet...
Suddenly, something shot from the tip of his wand, a stream of silver-white vapor, wavering in the air.
"Whoa, mate!" Abbott said, eyes wide with envy. "You actually got something out!"
"You think that's enough?" Snape shrugged, a faintly self-mocking smile on his face. "A bit of smoke won't stop a Dementor."
"You don't really think we'll ever face one, do you?" Abbott said carelessly, waving his wand. "They've been stuck in Azkaban for hundreds of years."
"Keep practicing, Abbott," Snape said. "Who knows what might happen in the future? Better to be prepared."
With that, he continued recalling every happy memory he could find, repeating the incantation over and over in his mind.
By the time class was nearly over, Snape's Patronus had evolved from shapeless mist into something more solid, a slender silver shadow emerged from his wand, twisting in the air.
Its form was long and narrow, somewhat strange, not the four-legged shape he had expected.
"What kind of animal is that?" Abbott chuckled, teasingly. "Looks like my long-bodied Puffskein!"
"Not worth responding to," Snape muttered, shooting him a look and lowering his wand.
Looking around, he noticed that a few other students had also managed to produce silvery mist.
Pandora was progressing quickly, her Patronus was small but already showed two long ears, hopping restlessly in the air.
James and Sirius had both made strong progress as well. Wisps of silvery vapor from their wands were taking on animal shapes. James proudly waved his wand around, showing off to everyone.
Sirius, on the other hand, had already pocketed his wand, lounging lazily against a desk. His expression was one of arrogance and boredom.
Wormtail watched them with open-mouthed awe, clapping and gasping every time James's wand emitted a new burst of mist.
Lupin stood beside them, looking discouraged and helpless, frowning as he held his wand without casting.
Then Snape's eyes fell on Lily.
From her wand burst not shapeless fog, but a dazzling, winged silver creature.
Snape narrowed his eyes, trying hard to make out what it was.
It might have been a bird, but one thing was certain: it was definitely not a doe.