"Don't get so worked up. The Patronus Charm needs a happy memory, not an excited one," Tver said with a laugh as he stepped in front of the trunk.
"So then, what's the happiest memory in your heart?"
Draco froze on the spot.
"I… I don't know."
It struck him all at once that he didn't seem to have any truly happy memory worth cherishing.
Riding a toy broom as a child?
No, that wasn't it.
His father had clearly disapproved of that kind of joy. One glance at his laughter, and he had turned away coldly.
Casting his first spell successfully?
That didn't feel right either.
Spending an entire afternoon just to manage a simple Lumos hardly met his father's expectations.
Becoming the Quidditch player he'd always dreamed of?
Even less likely. He'd never even won a championship.
…
From a very young age, he had been taught to become a proper heir.
His clothes had to be immaculate. His words and actions could never be crude.
He searched through his memories again and again, yet couldn't find a single moment he could truly call happiness.
Maybe… seeing Harry Potter so angry he couldn't even speak?
But he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud.
"Maybe… getting good grades at school?" he offered uncertainly.
Tver gave a reluctant nod.
"The specific memory doesn't matter. What matters is that the happiness in your mind is strong enough. In other words, that achievement should be something that makes you grin from ear to ear."
"When you're ready, raise your wand."
Draco did as he was told, lifting his wand at once. The confusion on his face was replaced by determination, his eyes fixed tightly on the narrow seam of the trunk.
Creak—
The white threads wrapped around the trunk snapped as if cut clean through, breaking apart in an instant.
Freed of its restraints, the lid was shoved open by an impatient Dementor inside.
This was Draco's first time facing a Dementor from such close range.
In that moment, he finally understood the fear Potter must have felt when confronting one. He also realized just how inappropriate it had been for him to use Dementors to scare Potter before.
The few sparks of happiness in his mind were like tiny candle flames, snuffed out by the blade-like cold carried by the Dementor.
"Expecto—"
Before he could finish the incantation, a suffocating despair surged up, flooding his entire being and crawling over every inch of his skin.
When the Dementor first emerged, it seemed momentarily confused. But its ant-sized intelligence quickly grasped the situation. Compared to the firm-willed Tver, Draco was clearly the easier prey.
Yet before it could take even a single step, a streak of white light lashed around its waist, slammed it hard into the ground, and dragged it straight back into the trunk.
"Bang!"
The moment the trunk snapped shut, Draco felt the Dementor's presence vanish completely, as if it had been wiped away.
"Have some chocolate. Cake works too," Tver said, stepping over to help him up. At the same time, refreshments he had prepared in advance floated over.
Draco glanced at the cauldron cake, then chose a small piece of chocolate instead and took a large bite.
"Professor… am I useless?"
"Why would you think that?" Tver said, casually picking up a small cake.
"That said, there are some issues. The happiness you felt was far too weak. Forget casting the Patronus Charm—you couldn't even briefly resist the Dementor's influence."
"You need a much stronger memory. At least several times stronger than the one you just tried to use."
"But I really can't think of any other memory," Draco said, frustration creeping into his voice.
Tver watched him struggle, helplessly exasperated.
This child was clearly suffocated by the upbringing of pure-blood families.
As someone familiar with that world, Tver knew exactly how oppressive that kind of education was to a child's nature. It was as if a ruler was pressed against them at all times, measuring every action, even how wide they were allowed to smile.
To put it bluntly, only after arriving at Hogwarts did they finally get the chance to breathe, to loosen up a little.
No wonder so many pure-bloods ended up with problems.
"You could try recalling the moment during the dueling tournament when everyone was cheering," Tver suggested.
"But I lost!" Draco shot back, clearly indignant.
"But in my eyes, you already won." Tver bent down, tapping lightly over Draco's heart, his gaze steady and unwavering.
"You were never meant to defeat Harry, Draco. The one you need to defeat is yourself—your arrogance and your complacency."
"As long as you realize that and keep working to change it, that matters more than winning a hundred championships."
Draco parted his lips, staring at the professor in a daze.
"So… that's how you see me," he muttered, sounding faintly aggrieved.
"…" Tver straightened up, momentarily speechless.
"Anyway," he continued, "if you think back carefully, you should remember how many people in the stands were cheering and applauding for you."
When Draco looked like he was about to argue again, Tver cut him off firmly.
"Not just Slytherin. Students from other houses—and even the professors—were impressed by your performance."
This wasn't something Tver made up. Anyone could see how badly Goyle and Crabbe dragged the team down, and just how much individual ability Draco Malfoy had shown.
After all, even many upper-year students couldn't cast Shield Charm twice in a row when fully rested.
Yet Draco, with his magic nearly depleted, had still managed to cast a third spell.
Even Tver himself had been surprised.
"Really?" Draco lifted his head slightly, eyes bright, clearly trying to meet the professor's gaze.
"I have no reason to lie to you, do I?"
Once Draco's fighting spirit had returned, Tver stepped aside again.
"I don't expect you to successfully cast the Patronus Charm after just one or two attempts. That's completely normal. What you need to focus on right now is practice."
"Yes!" Draco raised his wand firmly.
...
This spell was simply too difficult for Draco.
Even with a bit of Euphoria Potion mixed into his chocolate, and Tver quietly applying a Cheering Charm as well, Draco still couldn't produce a Patronus.
That said, unlike most people whose resolve weakened with repeated exposure, Draco grew more energized each time he faced the Dementor, lasting longer with every attempt.
If Tver hadn't noticed that his magic and stamina were both close to exhaustion and stopped the training in time, Draco would have collapsed on the spot.
In a way, that was a kind of talent too.
If he were ever unlucky enough to be thrown into Azkaban, at least Draco wouldn't have to worry about his will breaking…
"Did you notice?" Tver said reassuringly. "Your progress is very fast. For the next while, you just need to focus on refining the details of your spellcasting."
Judging by the excited look on Draco's face, though, reassurance probably wasn't necessary at all.