Occlumency
"Depulso!"
A jab of her wand saw the dummy go careening backwards on its wheel, slamming into the wall as the appropriate incantation burst from her lips. The crash of the wooden dummy hitting the floor gave her pause for a second, before she straightened up and waved her wand, softly uttering the repairing charm - watching as a few tiny, fragmented splinters rose from the floor and reattached themselves to the dummy as it righted itself.
The Come and Go room, she had learned, was almost sentient - and she had little desire to annoy it by damaging the goods within.
But even still, she had places to be - it was seven thirty, and curfew was at ten, leaving with two-and a-bit hours until she had to return to her dorm. And knowing her teacher, he would try squeeze every moment out of their time.
Professor Snape had been... Strangely forthcoming with instruction on Occlumency - to the point that Steph had briefly considered asking him if he was an imposter under Polyjuice or some other means, although she most certainly lacked the resolve to go through with it. Not to mention the ever-present dry wit and snide remarks that essentially dissuaded her from the idea.
That was one of the thoughts she was burying as deep as she could, lest the man find it when he rooted around in her mind - doubtless, if he found it, the disdain he had for Harry would be second only to his loathing for her. And as Snape had put it, teaching Occlumency required total ambivalence - unburdened by emotions positive or negative.
Too much care and love, and the target would be unable to fully prepare for the strength of a determined Legilimens attempting to penetrate their mental defences. Too much negativity - hate or loathing - and the teacher would be liable to be overly harsh on their student, which could lead to permanent mental damage at worst, and a near inability to progress at best.
That was why there were private tutors for the mind arts who plied their services to a section of the community.
Of course, there was the camp of Purebloods who didn't need an impartial teacher.
Speaking of Pureblood antics, Steph had been noticing something frankly strange. In the two months since being publicly outed by her Boggart, the treatment she had received had shifted drastically depending on who she was interacting with. Muggleborns almost universally seemed to shy away from her almost entirely - Granger had spent the entirety of that time studiously ignoring Steph's existence (which was a nice change), whilst Finch-Fletchley had given her filthy looks that the snobbish asshole made sure she saw - but only when he had enough of his little mob nearby to see him do it.
Or perhaps to keep him safe from whatever she would do to him.
The list of what she would like to have done was growing.
On the other hand, many Purebloods had begun to openly greet her in the halls as she passed by, regarding her with a mix of curiosity and respect that felt strange coming from some of the families that Steph would have otherwise considered to be of a higher social standing than her own. In particular, the Slytherins had been positively friendly to her - giving slight bows of their heads as they walked by, or even politely making her acquaintance when they had a private moment - all of which was giving her whiplash.
It was hardly endearing her to the rest of the school too.
But as of the current moment - she pondered as she rode a swinging staircase down towards the dungeons where her Occlumency lesson and teacher awaited - the general attitude towards her was still... Ambivalent. It had been the Occlumency that really helped her grasp that, for the most part, her year mates didn't think of her as the second coming of the Dark Lord, and those outside her year simply didn't care all that much. It was only those snobbish or self-assured enough to believe that they had to comment on everything that really were affected - and in the case of Granger, it had been a welcome change that the girl had finally stopped bitching about Steph and Daphne doing better in Arithmancy.
Seriously - some things were simply easier to learn second hand, rather than from a book.
Padma had privately mentioned that Granger was a constant source of her twin's pain. Parvati had apparently been sharing a dorm with Granger since the first year, and the Muggleborn had started to get on her nerves from day one.
And frankly, with an attitude like hers, it was little wonder that she had next to no friends.
Padma was an interesting point - the Patil twins had both expressed their interest in her trait, Padma going so far as to quietly voice her support for Steph when she had finally gotten back to their dorm room that night. Apparently, to be a Parselmouth in India was a revered thing, and carried vastly different connotations there when compared to the European world.
Steph frankly couldn't help but be fascinated by the different cultural interpretations of the skill.
"Lost in thought, Heiress Scamander?" One of the smoothest voices Steph had ever heard languidly hung in the air - there really was no better way of describing it. Silky and regal, it carried tones of power and nobility, and Steph turned on her right heel, gazing up the staircase that would eventually swing down towards the dungeons. A handful of steps higher stood a girl in the Slytherin uniform, wearing a silver badge inscribed with 'Head Girl', worn next to her tie that carried the mark of Grindelwald.
The girl herself was pale of complexion, with flawless skin almost porcelain white - dark lipstick upon full lips and equally dark eyes, twinkling with dangerous cunning and geniality. Raven hair and aristocratic cheekbones completed her appearance, and Steph almost did a doubletake - the similarities to her Boggart were almost striking, but this girl was distinctly different to it. She might have had trouble identifying who she was prior to her Occlumency training, but therein lay another reason she was persisting with it.
Occlumency allowed her to categorise her thoughts, and helped her recall memories and facts far better. And as a Ravenclaw... Well.
There was a reason that Granger had fallen to fifth in Arithmancy, and that Steph had overtaken Padma and Daphne.
"Lady Rosier." A soft murmur of the girl's name brought an empty, yet gentle smile to the girl's lips - prompting a soft cocking of her head to the left, before the motion turned into a slight bow.
"Please, such is my mother's honour. You may call me Vinda, Heiress." Occlumency schooled her reaction to a simple, gentle narrowing of her eyes. That was a... Quick deference of an otherwise expected formality. Whilst she lacked much of the rigorous training in expected formalities that children of the Sacred 28 and other more noble houses went through, Steph could tell that this was a proposed transaction - a dispelling of formalities in exchange for something.
"Then Stephanie will be fine, Vinda." A polite smile pulled onto her lips, one that brought a hint of life into the smile that was worn upon Rosier's face. Good. "What brings the Head Girl to speak to a lowly third year?"
The look on Rosier's face shifted to an ever so slightly condescending smile. They both knew the answer, but Steph was quite blatantly fishing for any ulterior motive. "I believe we both know the answer to that, Stephanie. Your gift is revered within the house of Salazar Slytherin, more so than in any of the other houses. Your word has quite a lot of sway in Slytherin."
Ah, was that her game? Steph allowed her lips to form a thin line, picking her words carefully. Rosier was hardly someone she wanted to annoy in any way - aside from being the Head Girl, Rosier was just that - a Rosier. "So, you seek me for such? I did not consider your position so tenuous."
Rosier's lips pulled into a slightly thinner smile, and Steph almost gave a wince - that was a definite misstep. Still, the expression on Rosier's face was amicable enough, so she hadn't mis-stepped too much. "My position in Slytherin is absolute, although I appreciate your concern. I was merely reminding... Or perhaps informing you, rather, that your words now carry... Weight. And not just within Hogwarts..."
... Oh. She could see now what Vinda was meaning - although it did ruffle her feathers that it had to be explained to her so blatantly. The elder girl strode down the steps to stand directly next to Steph, just as the staircase they were on came to a stop. Steph blinked - she hadn't even noticed it had begun to move.
"Just remember. Your voice is loud - take care who hears it."
With that, Vinda Rosier stepped off the staircase, heels clicking on the floor as she made her way down the corridor at the base of the landing, moving deeper into the dungeons with Steph following closely behind. Just a moment before Steph stepped into the office of Severus Snape, Vinda Rosier dragged her attention to her by way of clearing her throat, before staring at a seemingly blank patch of wall and loudly speaking. "Ophiophagus Hannah"
As if seeping from the wall, an ornate door emerged from the stonework, the frame a pair of serpents meeting at the very top, their heads twisted around one another. Giving Steph a brief glance, Rosier's voice couldn't have been more than a whisper, but Steph heard it loud and clear. "You will always be welcome in Slytherin, Heiress."
With that, the girl stepped into her common room, leaving Steph to stare for a few seconds. When she turned to face the simple office door of Severus Snape, she instead found the man himself staring down at her, his expression imperceptible. A soft drawl crept past his lips. "Be... Careful of the friends you make, Scamander."
With a flourish, the Potions Master spun on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he marched back into his office, leaving Steph to duck in behind him before the door closed.
The pressure in her head collapsed in an instant, and Steph damn near well planted her face on the desk in front of her as she drew a wheezed breath, holding herself upright with splayed arms resting upon the table. Greedy lungs sucked in great gulps of air as the agonising tear of pain in her skull slowly began to heal over, the pain ebbing and gradually retreating as she caught herself.
Had she been a more practiced Legilimens - or in less pain - she might have noticed that the raven-haired man across from her was himself grimacing in visible discomfort as he pressed his left hand to his desk, fingers loosely clutching his wand in his right.
Occlumency was not fun to learn for anyone involved.
With a barely audible noise of exertion, Severus Snape straightened himself up and cleared his throat softly. Raising his wand at her, Steph took the chance to swallow a few precious gulps of air and to focus her mind - just as the Professor before her told her to routinely. Control your emotions.
With a firm nod, she raised her head and met the stare of Severus Snape in lieu of giving direct consent. The man gritted his teeth and uttered the spell that both were sick of hearing. "Legillimens."
As noises of pain and frustration filled the air in the office of Severus Snape, neither of the occupants noticed the brown rat staring down at them with intelligence behind blank eyes.
Peter Pettigrew was many things.
He had been accused of being a coward - but there wasn't any shame in not fighting in a war that would only destroy the society in which they lived. It was better to bend the knee to the Dark Lord and to sacrifice three lives to save thousands - even if they were the lives of friends he had known since the first day of Hogwarts.
But it had all gone wrong.
The Dark Lord had fallen at the hands of the boy - somehow. Peter's plan to hide behind the Dark Lord for protection had been foiled and he had gone from a free man to one living on the run, and then to a chair in Ministry Courtroom #10, before ultimately ending up in Azkaban's High Security Wing, wearing a collar engraved with runes permanently fastened around his neck - all in the span of a week.
His mother hadn't even come to see him before she died.
He had sat in the cell for twelve years, slowly wasting away and listening to the insane screams of his fellow prisoners slowly growing quieter and quieter over the years as their essence was sucked away by the inhuman wardens of their prison. There had been precious few new inmates sentenced to Azkaban's high security wing over the years, so every new prisoner brought a welcome breath of fresh air.
At least, until they brought Gilderoy fucking Lockhart to Azkaban. The man had been placed a handful of cells down, and hadn't shut up at first - his ego fuelling his drive to survive longer and longer. His arrival had been a curse and a blessing - his jabbering was infuriating, but it also kept the Dementors focused upon him, as opposed to the rest them, which was a welcome change for as long as it had lasted.
Bellatrix had bet that he would waste away within three years. Rodolphus had disagreed - he had suggested that he wouldn't make two.
Barty had been like that - he hadn't made two years, and such a shame it had been. The boy had been slimy, but he had that air of refinement to that him that almost entirely hid the darkness within. And when that darkness showed, Barty Crouch Jnr was a wonderfully creative and devastatingly effective duellist - one to rival the likes of Moody or Sirius Black.
But things had also begun to look up early in 1993 as Augustus Rookwood - a loyal spy for the Dark Lord who had slipped through the fingers of the Ministry at the end of the War - visited Azkaban to examine the wards. It had been Rookwood who had slipped Pettigrew a potion that helped stave off the effects of the Dementors, and to regain his lucidity. It had been Rookwood who had placed the Imperius curse upon three guards on three separate occasions, and it had been Rookwood who had broken Peter out of Azkaban on the promise that he would faithfully return to the service of the Dark Lord.
Peter had spent a month recuperating in Rookwood manor, building his strength, and recovering from the experience of the prison, before Augustus had presented him to the homunculus form of the Dark Lord, residing in the cool and dry attic of the manor house. It had been a moment of pure terror and utter elation in a single moment, to see his Master again after twelve years.
But it had been tempered by the fact that the Dark Lord was not in a position to provide him with real protection from those who were hunting him - and given that it was the DMLE under Amelia Bones, with the Auror Office under Sirius Black, someone who knew all his old tricks, it was a terrifying prospect. Made no better by the fact that his Master had a job for him.
Peter Pettigrew was to head to Hogwarts.
It had been a horrible moment to learn that he was meant to sneak around under the nose of Albus Dumbledore - but it was compounded by the fact that Remus, of all people, was now teaching at Hogwarts. He did suggest that they out Remus as a Werewolf - but according to Augustus, that would no longer hold as much sway, as laws had been passed that granted them the right to work. Had Peter been bolder, he might have suggested that they wait until the curse on the position claimed Remus instead, but a year’s delay on his Master's plan would be unwise to suggest.
Besides - Remus would hardly be able to differentiate him from the rest of the rats running around Hogwarts, who had become his shield.
And so Wormtail was watching Severus Snape conducting Occlumency tutoring with a student as part of a secondary objective that he had been assigned in his task.
The various secondary objectives were a focus he had been given as a result of his Master's unfamiliarity with the current state of Wizarding England, an unfamiliarity Peter shared, and one that his Master considered useful. It would dispel any preconceptions, allow a clearer interpretation of the situation.
Severus was a wildcard, as always. The sardonic and abrasive Potions Master was playing at spying for both sides, and both sides considered the man the lesser of two evils - his utility for both being the only thing that held his life in the balance. However, since the Dark Lord's defeat, the man had no longer been bound by the Dark Lord's orders, and so Severus' loyalties were somewhat ambiguous.
The first time that Wormtail had seen Severus engaging in such hands-on tutoring of a student, he had been confused, but when he actually looked at the student that Severus was teaching Occlumency, Wormtail had nearly stumbled off the top of the bookcase. The girl was startlingly familiar - almost to the point that Wormtail mentally addressed her as Bellatrix. She appeared to be the splitting image of the Dark Witch in her younger years, albeit with a far kinder nature than the pure sadism that had been the Bellatrix Lestrange that he'd known.
That had been several weeks ago, and Severus' tutoring of her hadn't slowed since.
Another part of the task had been the gauge the students at the school, not just Severus himself. To that extent, Wormtail had found the Slytherin house meeting several weeks ago quite useful.
Daphne Greengrass was an immediate loss - she would never side with the Dark Lord without her father's approval, especially if Cyrus Greengrass was half the man Wormtail remembered him to be. And if he was, then Cyrus Greengrass would sooner take up arms against the Dark Lord than bend the knee.
Interestingly, Daphne Greengrass seemed to be aligning herself with Potter more than anything.
The rest of the Slytherins of Potter's year didn't bring much to the table.
Crabbe and Goyle took after their fathers heavily - with little in the way of brains, and much in the way of brawn. Much like their fathers, they seemed entirely indulgent in the physical pleasures - which mercifully enough was restricted to eating and lazing about for now. Their entire purpose was dictated by Lucius' son - and what a pompous brat he was. Draco Malfoy would be about as useful as his father; Peter could already tell. Decadent and full of self-importance, with little in the way of skill or finesse, he would be more useful behind closed doors than on the battlefield.
Malcom Parkinson's daughter, on the other hand, was almost entirely overlooked by those in her year, her skills disregarded in favour of being considered simply Draco's elbow décor. But not only did Pansy Parkinson have the entire set of skills expected of her as a Pureblood Heiress and wife, but she was also nothing to sleep on as far as her magic went. Quick with her wand and possessing an aptitude for charms, Parkinson had real potential - perhaps not as much as Bellatrix, but perhaps one like Alecto Carrow.
But the real stars of the House Meeting were the higher years. Pucey had proven himself to be just as resourceful as his father, and the Dark Lord would almost certainly demand their service once again - and almost certainly, the Pucey patriarch would bend the knee. The boy, whilst more progressive, still remained in the Traditionalist camp - he would likely only need proof that the Dark Lord was back for him to offer his service.
And if Pucey bowed the knee, his authority over Slytherin would lead many into the Dark Lord's service.
But there was a simple problem.
Vinda Rosier II.
The disciple of Grindelwald would invariably leave her mark on the house of Slytherin - showing openly that one did not have to tread the path of the Dark Lord any longer, in the mistaken belief that he was dead. She was now championing a new path of traditionalism behind Stephanie Scamander - whom Wormtail had eventually discovered was the girl that Severus had been tutoring, and whom was supposedly a Parselmouth. Rosier scared Wormtail - just a little bit. He had never been the best duellist, and if push came to shove, she might beat him.
So, if he was to defeat her, then her defeat would have to be purely political, to shatter the remains of her influence, and to pave the way for the Dark Lord's ascendant return.
As he ducked back into the immense system of small air ducts that criss-crossed the castle, Wormtail gave a mental grimace as he continued past the entry to the vents that lead to the Slytherin Common Room. His Master's main task for him was taking longer than he wanted it to - remaining around Hogwarts was a less than pleasant experience and was doing nothing for his nerves, especially with the Dementors lurking outside the castle, and Albus fucking Dumbledore lurking within. He could bypass both with the many passages in and out of Hogwarts, but that was no reason to face either head on.
It had been astounding to learn of the Room of Hidden Things - he had scarcely believed his ears when his Master had told him about it, but to his great amazement, it had been real. With even a quarter of the items that had to be hidden within it, Peter could have become the richest Wizard in the world - but his Master cared not for the treasures hidden within. He had simply issued an order, one that Peter didn't really understand, but was working to regardless - for it had to have some value to the Dark Lord after all.
Now where in this mess would he hide a Diadem?
"Remember, you will have to turn that essay in by the first. If you need extra time, please let me know before the due date unless it’s absolutely pressing." A few quiet groans went up from around the classroom, but for the most part, the students stood without further complaint as the bell's chime slowly drifted away under the weight of the chatter in the air - which was suddenly cut through by Remus' voice. "Ah - Harry, could you and your friends please stay after class."
A moment of confusion came over him, and Harry gave a sidelong glance at Daphne to his left, only to be met with an expression of subtle intrigue from the blonde. A glance to Neville on his other side revealed more overtly blatant confusion, which drew a frown to his face - before Remus spoke again as the class began to file out. "It's about what you asked me in August."
Ah, that makes sense.
The look of realisation on his face must have been out of place enough to draw his friends attention, as Neville leant over, softly asking. "What did you ask him about, mate?"
"You'll see in a sec, Nev." Turning his attention back to Remus as the man cleaned up his desk as the remaining students filed out, the Professor took a few more seconds to tidy up, before flicking his wand at the door, closing it softly. His attention turned to the small group, and he gave a small smile.
"Now, back in August, Harry asked me about the Dementors. In light of what happened on the train on September First, I went to Sirius and Dumbledore, and inquired about the possibility of teaching the Patronus charm to you all." A soft murmur of surprise went around his friends - Tracey quietly asking Daphne about what the charm actually was, whilst Neville exhaled nervously to himself. Harry was almost confident - almost, for when he went to take a breath to speak, he found a lump in his throat as his nerves reminded him just why Remus had sought permission, something the werewolf made known immediately after. "I sought permission because the charm is usually taught at NEWT level, but both Sirius and Dumbledore gave their approval considering you are all not only capable Witches and Wizards, but also excelling academically."
With a tired sigh, Remus brushed some of his hair to the side, before gently stroking his bristled chin. "For those who are not fully aware, the Patronus charm is complex and draining. It is essentially a manifestation of positive emotions, and requires the caster to feel joyous and happy when casting, and to be pure of soul. Dark Wizards and Witches are unable to cast a Patronus - in fact, most adult Witches and Wizards are not skilled enough to do so."
"Academic performance is not an adequate demonstration of magical prowess." Harry almost jumped at the sudden comment from behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder reminded him that, yes, Steph was still in the room - and in doing so, he came to an abrupt realisation. It wasn't one he was particularly surprised by, but it was for once on full display in this moment. The girl had changed.
Her personality had become far more serious and distant over the past few weeks - in the wake of the Boggart incident - and the girl barely felt like herself these days. She felt more like a statue, cold and emotionless, even more so than Daphne could be at the worst of times - to the extent that Tracey had half-heartedly suggested that Daphne's title of 'Ice Queen' should have gone to Steph. Tracey's laugh that followed the joke had petered out almost pathetically within seconds, vanishing into a concerned expression, similar to the one that Remus was wearing when Harry turned back around.
"True enough, however Pomona tells me that Neville exceeds at Herbology, Minerva has nothing but praise for all of you in transfiguration, and Flitwick routinely applauds Tracey and Daphne on their charms work. I've never heard Aurora or Septima speak bad of any of you, and perhaps most importantly I consider you all appropriately prepared." Remus' expression was briefly pensive for a moment, before his head tilted ever so slightly and his lips pulled a fraction thinner. "Perhaps most impressively, Severus tells me you have progressed immensely quickly at Occlumency, Stephanie."
"So that's why you've been down in the Dungeons late at night." Tracey's comment drew Harry's gaze to her - although judging by the brief flash of red across her cheeks and the brunette's green eyes flicking past him, it wasn't just him looking at her. "W-what? I've seen her leaving the Dungeons just before curfew for a while now. I almost thought she was seeing a boy or something."
"Well at least it’s not Malfoy..." Neville's blithe remark drew a snort from the brunette, and a stifled chuckle from Harry, before he let his gaze roam to Steph, whose almost blank expression entirely killed the air of humour. Tracey's snort of humour and Harry's chuckle died in a heartbeat, and the raven-haired girl simply blinked back at them in an entirely disconcerting manner.
Harry swallowed uncomfortably yet again.
"... Regardless, I will remind you that the Patronus charm, more so than any other magic - even magic performed entirely on intent like your banishing charm from a few weeks back - requires emotion. Based on the stage of Occlumency you appear to be at, it would be... Unadvisable, shall we say, to continue occluding your emotions." Remus' words were more of a gentle suggestion, yet they were met with unflinching blankness from Steph, who simply responded with a flat tone.
"I understand, however I believe it would be detrimental to my progress to cease such." Steph's reply seemed to catch Remus off guard ever so slightly, the man blinking in surprise as Steph pushed herself forwards ever so slightly - and revealing that she had been seated on the edge of the desk she had occupied during the lesson. "Detrimental to any efforts, for that matter."
".. Very well. If you believe so." Remus cleared his throat and tried to dispel the slightly strained look on his face with a small smile as he regarded the rest of them. "Now, the incantation is Expecto Patronum, which loosely translates as 'I await a protector' for those of you not up to scratch on your Latin. The motion is a spiral - but the real driving power of the spell is your memories. You must draw upon the happiest thoughts you've ever had, hold them tight and don't let go. This spell will likely take you a long time to actually learn to perform for any duration, so don't be disheartened if you can't get it."
Seemingly the moment Remus had stopped talking, the quintet all had their wands out, and Harry raised his wand and opened his mouth, only to stall at the final second. What.. Was his happiest memory? This sudden roadblock seemed to catch just about everyone off guard - judging by the sudden and abject silence, broken only by a deliberate incantation spoken from Steph behind him.
"Expecto Patronum." A glance over his shoulder revealed Steph staring at the air with a flat expression, whereupon her lips twitched just a little bit, before her eyes briefly glazed over, as if discarding a memory in favour of a new one. A moment passed and the girl closed her eyes, taking a shallow breath and twirling her wand again. "Expecto Patronum."
The result, however, was the same, and her lips twitched again, whereupon Harry turned to shoot Daphne a slightly concerned expression, one that the blonde girl returned, before herself raising her wand and twirling it slightly. "Expecto Patronum."
Much like with Steph, nothing burst from the tip of Daphne's wand, leaving Harry to look down at his wand with pensive apprehension. His lips quirked downwards into a frown - and not for the first time did his mind drift back to the images in the mirror of Erised. If his mum and dad were still here, perhaps he could have called on a litany of other memories involving them.
He instead fixed his mind upon his thirteen birthday - just passed - and the brand new Firebolt that Sirius had gotten him to try out for the Hufflepuff team, much to his horrendous embarrassment. He had felt like Malfoy when he had tried out - given that his broom was leagues better than anything anyone else at the school was flying. The sensation was made no better as Cedric voluntarily swapped back to his previous position as Chaser when the Firebolt proved to be simply too fast for Heidi and Tamsin to keep up with, meaning that either their formation work would be appalling, or the Firebolt's potential would be held back by Tamsin's Cleansweep Seven.
It felt more like he was buying his way onto the team, as opposed to actually getting on to the team from skill alone, even though Cedric seemed to believe that Harry was a better Seeker than even he was.
Perhaps that was it - Sirius congratulating him on getting onto the Hufflepuff team.
Focusing on the memory, of his Godfather grabbing him in a tight hug and ruffling his hair - telling him that he was proud of Harry, and that his mum and dad would be too - Harry took a deep breath and twirled his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
The rush of magic was familiar - although he had never pushed himself to the extent that he was now - but the emotions were the hard part. It felt like his emotions were being pulled on, and he drew an involuntary gasp of air, a chill rocketing down his spine, fraying his concentration. Just like that, the sensation ended, and his wand arm dropped. He could feel the spell - he almost had it on his first try, but it had slipped away from him in that moment.
A glance to his right showed Neville simply staring at his wand, and Harry's lips pulled into a grimace. Neville would perhaps have the hardest time of them all trying to conjure a Patronus - and Harry almost went over to give the boy a sideways hug. His attention, however, went to Tracey, who took an audible breath before twirling her wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
A puff of silvery-white mist escaped from the end of her wand, and the girl gave a gasp of audible pleasure at the sight, a grin splitting her features. Remus made a noise of surprise. "Oh, well done Tracey! Was that your first attempt?"
"Yep!" Popping the p, Tracey rolled her wand between her fingers as she examined it closely, as if concerned something had happened to it. Seemingly nothing had, as Tracey swished her wand through the air, the wood flexing just a little bit as she did so - causing Harry to idly note that Tracey's wand was relatively whippy.
With a breath - Harry repeated the motion, clinging to the knowledge that he could do this, and cried the incantation. "Expecto Patronum!"
With what felt like a roar of emotions, a silvery-white shield burst forth from the wand, glowing and pulsing as a triumphant euphoria flooded over him. He could feel his mood lifting, his soul seeming to surge and cheer for a moment - before the shield flickered out, and he suddenly felt like a puppet with its strings cut, a sudden gasp escaping him as he fell backwards, leaning against his desk.
It had only lasted for a handful of seconds, but Remus clapped his hands, his tone astounded and proud. "Well done, Harry! I've never heard of someone getting a non-corporeal Patronus on their second try! Although I think that's enough for today. If any of you practice in your own time, make sure to take breaks, the charm takes a lot out of you."
As the group went to leave, Remus called out. "Steph, a word please."
Following Tracey as she excitedly gossiped with Daphne about the charm, Harry glanced over his should as he stood at the door, watching as Remus spoke to Steph with cautious gentleness, the raven-haired girl simply standing before him - although appearing increasingly uncomfortable as the moments went on. A second later, Remus looked up at harry, gave him a firm nod, before waving his hand - the door the of classroom shutting between them.