That unicorn was truly beautiful—its silver-white body glowing softly like moonlight. It landed gracefully, its hooves leaving no trace on the dusty floor.
Moments later, the unicorn vanished.
And yet… Harold couldn't shake the feeling that it looked oddly familiar.
The unicorn's appearance, size—especially the expression on its face—that calm disdain as if it looked down on all living things with equal contempt… it reminded him more and more of Silvermane.
But that didn't make sense. Silvermane's unicorn was blue, not silver. And he hadn't summoned it just now.
Also, in Harold's memory, silver animal-shaped manifestations meant only one thing: a Patronus.
Wait.
A realization struck him, and the corner of Harold's mouth twitched involuntarily.
It couldn't be… could it?
Still, he drew Silvermane and gave it a wave.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Something shot from the tip of his wand—not a cat, but a silver-white unicorn.
So it was true. His Patronus had changed—from a cat to a unicorn.
Well, technically, the cat had only been a pre-formed shape. It wasn't a proper Patronus yet.
And it wasn't unheard of for a Patronus to change.
But a unicorn?
Just like Animagus transformations, Patronuses typically took the form of ordinary animals. In fact, only one known wizard had ever summoned a magical creature as a Patronus—Dumbledore, whose Patronus was a phoenix.
And now Harold's was a unicorn.
With a flick of his wand, Harold summoned Silvermane's unicorn too.
Two unicorns appeared in the Shrieking Shack, one silver and one blue, bathing the room in radiant light.
What was even stranger was how identical they were—in size, shape, even demeanor.
"Don't tell me this is your doing," Harold muttered, narrowing his eyes at the blue unicorn. He was starting to suspect that it had tampered with his Patronus, triggering the magical backlash that had shattered his wand.
But the unicorn ignored him entirely, simply striding about the room with its head held high, refusing to acknowledge his presence at all.
It was just a spirit. It didn't understand human speech.
Still, the more Harold thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
And then he remembered something else.
The night he first captured the Dementor, it had been Silvermane's unicorn that helped drive it into the box. At the time, Harold had noticed the unicorn looking disgusted.
Back then, he'd thought it just disliked Dementors. But now that he thought about it… the room hadn't only contained a Dementor. It had also held the lingering traces of a Patronus.
Was it possible the unicorn had recognized something… and intervened?
Were unicorn spirits really that smart?
Harold didn't know—and he had no one to ask. After all, he was the only wizard in the magical world who could summon a unicorn's spirit.
…
Twenty minutes before Hogwarts' curfew, Sirius arrived at the Shrieking Shack right on schedule.
Harold was already waiting.
"Well, that's new," Sirius said, raising an eyebrow. "You're not tormenting that poor Dementor tonight."
Usually, at this hour, Harold would be clashing with the creature using a swirling ball of silver light. The quiet was eerie.
"Don't tell me… you've already learned the Patronus Charm?" Sirius asked.
"More or less," Harold replied.
The process had gotten weird near the end, but there was no doubt now—that silver unicorn was a true Patronus.
"Impressive," Sirius said flatly.
And it was. But considering Harold was a thirteen-year-old Animagus, his learning the Patronus Charm didn't feel all that shocking anymore.
What Sirius really wanted was for Harold to keep that Dementor out of the shack. If not, he'd have to start looking for a new place to sleep.
Harold didn't object to that.
Now that he'd mastered the Patronus Charm, he no longer needed to sneak off here to practice.
…
Compared to Harold, though, Harry was struggling.
After three extra lessons with Professor Lupin, his progress remained slow.
Every time the Boggart transformed into a Dementor, Harry could only summon a faint, hazy wisp of light. Too weak to drive the creature back, it could barely stop it from advancing.
Frustration gnawed at him. He wanted to ask Harold how far he'd gotten—but he didn't dare.
So during Divination class, Harry sheepishly asked when Harold might learn the Patronus Charm.
Harold glanced into the crystal ball. It remained blank—the swirling white fog didn't so much as twitch. Clearly, this kind of question was beyond the scope of Divination.
So Harold switched to a different method: tarot.
Not Exploding Snap, but proper, academic Divination cards. There was a deck right here in the classroom.
This kind of reading could reflect the subject's internal thoughts.
Harry drew a card and flipped it over.
"The Two-Faced Man," Harold said. "You're conflicted. Draw another."
Harry picked again—this time, it was a silver-white orb.
"Full Moon…" Harold raised an eyebrow. "Danger, secrets, and the unpredictability of fate. You're hiding something, aren't you?"
Harry lowered his head, silent.
"Let me guess," Harold said, placing the cards face-down. "You once told me you could hear a woman screaming when facing a Dementor."
"If I'm right, that was your mother's voice, wasn't it?"
Harry's hand clenched involuntarily.
"Thought so," Harold murmured. "You want to learn the Patronus Charm, but deep down… you want to hear her again."
He paused. "Let me put it another way. Casting a Patronus requires a clear, unwavering will. Most magic does."
"To summon a proper Patronus, you have to mean it—you have to truly want to drive the Dementor away."
"But it seems… maybe you don't want to push it away completely."
Harry remained silent. Honestly, he regretted asking Harold for a reading in the first place.
He'd only wanted to know when he'd master the charm. How had Harold figured out this much?
And yes, he did want to hear the voice again. Even if it was just a few words—he couldn't help it.
He felt angry at himself. Guilty, too.
"Wow. You're good," Harry said awkwardly. "Maybe I am interested in Divination after all."
Harold didn't press the point, just gave the book beside Harry a glance—it looked brand new.
Unfogging the Future.
"If you're serious, I recommend reading this. It's perfect for beginners."
"Forget what Professor Trelawney says about the Inner Eye. Most Divination doesn't require that. Like this card reading—just remember the meanings and use a bit of logic."
"Uh, right. Thanks," Harry mumbled, clearly distracted.
…
(End of Chapter)