When Dumbledore heard Theodore's answer, his pupils trembled ever so slightly.
He had not expected that.
Not choosing a branch of magic for its destructive power.
Not for prestige, or usefulness.
But simply… because he found it interesting.
For a moment, Dumbledore felt something almost like reverence.
He even lifted his half-moon spectacles and discreetly wiped at the corners of his eyes, which had inexplicably grown a little damp.
"Yes," he murmured, voice low and distant. "When we first encountered magic as children, we only cared about what was fun."
"As we grow older, we grow… utilitarian. Some people forget why they wanted to learn magic in the first place. They begin chasing sheer power, and step further and further down the wrong road."
"Theodore Ashbourne," he said quietly, looking at the boy as though seeing him anew, "you understand the true essence of magic better than anyone I've met in many, many years."
He raised the Elder Wand.
Silver light blossomed from the tip; a phoenix of pure luminance burst forth, wheeled once through the vaulted air, and scattered a rain of shimmering motes before folding back into the wand.
[Hearing your words — "I walk my own Dao" — the South-Pole Elder fell silent for a time, then laughed aloud in delight.
A heart so pure and childlike is sure to reach greatness.
At once he struck the golden bell and began to preach the Dao.]
As the last silver feather vanished, Dumbledore looked back at Theodore.
"The Patronus Charm," he began, "is one of the oldest spells we know of."
"It has no real destructive power. A Patronus is all but useless in a duel. It only comes into its own when facing Dementors and certain kinds of darkness-twisted beings."
"Because of that, many shortsighted witches and wizards never bother to practise it. In their eyes there is 'no return on investment', as some of my more economic-minded acquaintances might say."
His expression flickered with undisguised disdain.
"But such people will never grasp the subtlety of the Patronus Charm," Dumbledore went on, "and they will never touch the very highest levels of magic."
"Theodore," he asked suddenly, "tell me—what is the essence of magic?"
A faint crease appeared between Theodore's brows. Still, he answered without much hesitation.
"The essence of magic," he said, "is a kind of subjective force—an idealist power. When a witch or wizard wants something to happen strongly enough, and channels that will… it happens. That's magic."
Dumbledore inclined his head, satisfied.
"Exactly. And so one of the key factors in casting any spell is intent—your will, your conviction."
"In that case, Theodore—what do you think a Patronus represents?"
For an instant, a bolt of clarity split through Theodore's mind like lightning. He understood, all at once, what Dumbledore was really asking.
"A Patronus," he said slowly, "is the truest reflection of a wizard's inner self."
"Anyone can lie to you. You can even lie to yourself. But a Patronus will never lie. Its form is bound to your heart, always."
"The Patronus Charm is… a concretisation of a witch or wizard's will."
"Headmaster, just now you said that without a Patronus, one can never truly grasp the highest magic. Do you mean…"
Dumbledore's face broke into a smile of open admiration.
"Remarkable insight, Theodore. Truly remarkable."
"Yes. The more advanced and profound a spell is, the more it demands a powerful, clear will. If a witch or wizard has never practised the Patronus Charm, if their intent and conviction have never been given shape, how could they possibly hope to wield the deepest magics?"
"The Patronus Charm is not a combat spell," he said. "It's a spell for cultivating oneself."
"It is a key—to unlock the treasury inside a wizard, to open the vault of buried treasure in their heart."
"In ancient times, a witch or wizard was not considered to have truly 'entered the hall' of magic until they had obtained this key."
"They even went so far as to judge a wizard's talent purely by the strength of their Patronus. That method was too crude and has long since been abandoned… but in a sense, there is some truth in it."
The fog that had been hanging over Theodore's thoughts finally cleared.
He understood Dumbledore's explanation completely—and his mind immediately began to spin forward, jumping to the next question.
"If the Patronus Charm is a wizard's most definite, most condensed manifestation of will," Theodore said, "then it's like a focus—a magnifier."
"It takes the vague, scattered threads of thought and gathers them, concentrates them into a single image."
"In that case, if you combine the Patronus Charm with spellcasting… theoretically, it should boost the power of every spell, shouldn't it?"
Dumbledore's eyes widened. He could not help himself; he brought his hands together and applauded.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," he declared, "for Theodore Ashbourne's astonishing capacity for understanding!"
"You are absolutely correct. Any spell—that is, any spell that is not of the Dark Arts—will change radically once a Patronus is woven into it."
"You must regard the Patronus as yourself," he said. "It is the extension of your heart and your magic. Use it as the medium through which you cast."
"This is an extremely difficult process. Countless so-called prodigies have spent years—some, their whole lives—trying to accomplish it."
"Even for you, Theodore, it may take a long time."
"But I give you my word: once you succeed, your magic will undergo a metamorphosis."
As Dumbledore spoke, the last snag in Theodore's comprehension finally snapped.
For days now, he had been trying to figure out how to fuse the Patronus Charm into his other magic, but there had always been a missing piece, something he could not name.
Now, Dumbledore's words slotted that piece perfectly into place.
Theodore closed his eyes.
In his mind, the Patronus Charm, Gubraithian Fire, Transfiguration—
—began to join together.
[Listening to the Elder's sermon, it was as though sweet dew were poured straight into your soul; you stepped into a state of enlightenment.
The high-level divine arts you had earned in the Demon Grotto now linked together in an instant.]
Theodore's eyes snapped open.
A surge of power rolled off him in an invisible wave.
Dumbledore stiffened, startled; an unbelievable suspicion flickered through his thoughts.
"Theodore, you…?"
The boy's fingers tightened around his staff. He grinned.
"Headmaster," he said, "I've got it."
Silver radiance burst out.
The mysterious thirty-six-petalled lotus—the embryonic form of his Patronus—rose and fell, turning slowly in the air.
Gold-red Gubraithian Fire flared to life around it, coiling about the lotus like a living halo.
Transfiguration folded into the matrix.
Then the talent of Control Fire at Will flowed in behind it—
Lotus blooming, lotus sinking, advancing like a tidal wave of light.
[Then, with a single stomp of your foot, holy light erupted; the Green Lotus rose and fell, wrapped in pure flame and demon-breaking force, roaring outwards. It was—]
Theodore's gaze shone.
This spell was not the same as Dumbledore's Firestorm.
Any magic that fused with a Patronus would, by its very nature, become unique—shaped by the caster's inner self. Dumbledore's version could never be perfectly reproduced.
By the same logic, the spell Theodore was unleashing now was something that no one else could copy. It belonged to him alone.
Its name welled up quietly from his heart as the light rushed forward.
Born from Firestorm, yet rooted in the world-splitting potential of the Green Lotus; carrying a sacred brilliance that swept all before it—
Then let it be called—
[The Lotus-Sacred Road That Splits Heaven's Light!]
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