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Chapter 85
At the edge of the magnificent iron gates, the Dementors lingered.
This was where they lived—if such a word could be used for creatures like them. They longed for the food within the gates to step outside, to grant them even a fleeting taste of joy. But that hope was never fulfilled.
They spread their despair outward relentlessly, hovering at the boundary, testing its limits again and again, skirting the edge like gamblers pushing their luck.
What they did not know was that tonight, they were nothing more than whetstones.
Even at a distance, Pansy felt her heart seize when her eyes met the hollow gazes of the Dementors. Her happiness drained away as though it were being siphoned out of her chest. Darkness crept inward, dragging her toward a bottomless abyss where no light existed.
Her most terrifying memories—along with nameless, formless fears—rose unbidden in her mind.
She was sinking.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver light burst from Draco's wand.
Mist poured forth, then rapidly condensed, shaping itself in the air. In the next instant, a fully formed silver Patronus emerged—brilliant, solid, and resonant.
Above them, the moon seemed to echo its radiance.
The Dementors recoiled as one, drifting backward in visible disgust.
Pansy shuddered violently. The fear in her eyes vanished, clarity returning as warmth flooded back into her limbs.
"Keh—keh—keh!"
The sharp crow of the silver rooster rang out across the night.
Pansy blinked, then burst into laughter.
"Draco," she said between giggles, "your Patronus is ridiculous. A rooster crowing in the middle of the night?"
Still sharp-tongued, Draco thought.
His expression remained stern. "I didn't bring you here to mock my Patronus. Focus on the incantation—and on the Dementors."
Her smile faded as she straightened. She nodded seriously.
"What should I do now?"
The levity had been deliberate. She had been trying to shake off the oppressive atmosphere. But now was the time to learn.
More than that—she wanted revenge.
The fear she had felt on the train was still burning in her chest.
"Expecto Patronum."
Pansy whispered the spell.
A weak wisp of silver mist emerged from the tip of her wand. It struggled to gather shape, trembling like smoke in the wind, before dispersing uselessly.
"It's not enough," Draco said calmly. "You need to focus on happiness. A memory, or even a hope for the future. Your emotions have to be strong enough for the Patronus to take form."
She tried again.
The silver mist flared brighter this time, rising like a flickering flame—like a growing sprout reaching for light—but it still fell short.
Pansy clenched her teeth.
She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she felt as though the Dementors were mocking her—silent, faceless, yet unmistakably contemptuous.
"I don't know…" she said quietly, irritation creeping into her voice. After so many failures, her shoulders slumped. "Am I… just going to hold you back?"
"No wizard succeeds on their first attempt," Draco said immediately. "I failed countless times where you couldn't see."
Controlling emotion was never easy.
If it were, there wouldn't be so many broken people in the Muggle world—people forced to rely on medicine just to function. And yet, some still mocked them from a position of ignorance, offering shallow words like just think positively.
Even Draco knew this spell demanded far more than talent.
George Weasley would one day lose the ability to cast a Patronus—because every happy memory he possessed was tied to his brother.
Draco himself had only succeeded through relentless practice, careful self-conditioning, and a degree of ruthless honesty with his own mind.
"…Alright," Pansy muttered.
She practiced a little longer, then finally exhaled and lowered her wand.
"I get it," she said softly. "But it's still frustrating."
Draco checked the time. "It's late. Let's stop here before Filch catches us and docks points. We'll try again another day."
She nodded, then—rather than leaving—turned around and stuck out her tongue at the mass of Dementors behind the gates, making a ridiculous face.
Draco almost laughed. They can't even see that.
He decided not to say it. She deserved her moment.
"Draco," Pansy said suddenly as they began walking side by side. "Is happiness really limited to memories and fantasies?"
He frowned slightly. "What else would it be?"
Before he could think further—
Something cool and soft brushed his cheek.
Draco froze.
Pansy pulled back just as quickly, her face glowing in the moonlight.
"That," she said with a smile.
She turned back toward the gates, lifted her wand, and took a steady breath.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver light erupted.
It surged outward like a rising sun, engulfing them both—and for a fleeting moment, the night around Hogwarts shone as brightly as day.