With Reversed Demonic Source finally in hand, Theodore couldn't help the small grin tugging at his mouth.
If this talent really could let him twist "demonic" spells into righteous ones—turn Fiendfyre into a cleansing flame, and so on—then it was very much his sort of thing.
And if he pointed it at the Killing Curse… what would that become?
He didn't know yet, but the idea alone made all those hours of dusting feel a lot more worthwhile.
Madam Pince, on the other hand, was the one looking guilty.
She dug into her purse, pulled out a small handful of silver Sickles, and thrust them into his hand before he could protest.
"You have to take these," she insisted. "I can't let you work for nothing."
"I'll submit a request to mark this as official work-study. That record will help when you're looking for a job after graduation—employers in the wizarding world love students who held work-study posts."
"And you were here to borrow from the Restricted Section to begin with. I've already kept you far too long; I can't be the one holding back your studies. Wait right here…"
She rummaged through a very old, very tattered notebook, lips moving as she scanned lines of dense script.
"Go into the Restricted Section," she said at last, "twelfth row, third shelf, fifth slot from the left. If no one's moved it, there should be a book there that's suitable for a young wizard."
The System helpfully overlaid its own version.
[The Guardian Immortal, moved by your talent, points you toward a fortuitous chance within the Demon Grotto.]
[Long ago, a Chan Sect disciple entered the Grotto to temper himself and perished inside, leaving behind a spell jade slip in his burial place.]
Theodore's eyes lit up.
Right. He'd almost forgotten—Madam Pince was the librarian.
He suspected she was a Squib, like Filch; that would explain the duster and her habit of cleaning by hand.
But just as Filch knew every hidden passage and creaking stair in the castle, Pince knew every shelf and stack in the library.
When it came to finding books, there was no one more reliable.
He headed back into the Restricted Section, returning the books he'd scrubbed to their proper places as he went, following her directions deeper in.
[You advance cautiously into the Demon Grotto. Thanks to your earlier slaughter, the surrounding demons have been thinned out, leaving a brief pocket of calm.]
[You arrive, unharmed, at the place where the Chan Sect disciple fell. The jade slip the Guardian Immortal spoke of lies ahead.]
Theodore looked up.
On the shelf in front of him, a single silver-lit volume glowed gently:
A Complete Commentary on the Patronus Charm.
His eyelid twitched.
Seriously?
Who put a Patronus manual in the Restricted Section?
This was like finding "Advanced Calculus: Full Lecture Series" uploaded on a site that definitely wasn't for academic content.
Then again… the Patronus Charm wasn't exactly child's play.
Even a prodigy like Harry had struggled for ages before managing a corporeal Patronus.
Hermione and Ron had needed even more time.
That alone said this spell made ferocious demands on a caster's magic. Hand it to some random, underpowered student, and you would absolutely be looking at accidents.
And beyond that, the Patronus was one of the oldest known spells.
Measured by age, it was an "ancient magic" in its own right, perhaps older than many spells that officially carried that label.
Theodore's expression turned thoughtful.
"The Patronus is built specifically to push back Dementors," he mused. "If this charm is that old… then Dementors must be extremely ancient too—maybe as far back as the so-called 'primeval era' the System keeps hinting at."
The Dementors' very existence was strange—very unlike other magical creatures. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that if he dug deep enough into the history of Patronuses and Dementors, he might bump into those 'ancient horrors returning' everyone kept vaguely doom-prophesying about.
But that line of thought flickered only briefly.
Right now, he had a much more immediate question:
What would his Patronus be?
He cracked open A Complete Commentary on the Patronus Charm.
Pages rustled, and his Seven Apertures Exquisite Heart spun into motion. Information poured into his mind, settled, arranged itself, and in a matter of minutes he had absorbed everything the text had to say.
Understanding sparkled behind his eyes.
"If curses like Avada Kedavra and Crucio are fuelled by strong, negative emotions—killing intent, hatred, the desire to hurt—"
"Then the Patronus Charm is the exact opposite. It runs on purely positive emotion."
"In the original story, Harry and the others had to recall happy memories while casting. That's to help them generate enough positive feeling to power the spell."
"But recalling happy memories isn't strictly required. Someone like Dumbledore can cast a monstrous Patronus without reminiscing at all."
"And honestly, if he did dredge up old memories, it's hard to say whether he'd feel more happiness or pain."
"So in truth, what matters isn't the memory—it's the will: the intent to protect, the clarity of belief, and sufficient magic to back it up."
"All you really need is a steadfast desire to protect, a firm mind, and a deep enough pool of magic. Then you can call your Patronus forth directly."
Theodore drew in a long breath.
Between Seven Apertures Exquisite Heart and Adamantine Body, Unclouded Mind, stray thoughts might as well not exist.
Whenever he wished, he could clear his mind completely, like a still lake reflecting the sky.
He lifted his ancient staff.
The wood thrummed—more alive than he'd ever felt it, excited, as though he were finally casting the sort of magic it had been waiting for.
He spoke softly.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver light erupted from the tip.
Theodore's eyes shone, a spark of anticipation in their depths.
What would it be?
A lion? An eagle? A bull or stag?
Or something stranger, like Dumbledore's phoenix—a rare magical creature with deep symbolic weight?
The answer arrived, and he froze.
The light didn't coalesce into an animal at all.
Instead, it blossomed into a lotus.
A lotus of thirty-six tiers.
The luminous blossom drifted before him, carried on the Patronus's silver radiance.
Its structure was exact: twelve leaves below, twenty-four petals in full bloom, and in the heart of the lotus, four perfect seeds.
Silver mist buoyed it gently, like a small, sacred sun.
Theodore just stared.
"That's… not right," he whispered.
"How is it a lotus?"
"A Patronus has to take a living form. That's basically one of the core rules of the charm."
He frowned, thoughts racing.
There was only one way to reconcile this.
"There's one exception," he murmured.
"My Patronus isn't complete yet."
"This thirty-six-tier lotus is only a part of it. I just don't have the ability to fully manifest the true form."
He narrowed his eyes, studying the glowing flower.
Sure enough, above the lotus, the silver light shimmered and swirled.
Looked at closely, there seemed to be something… there—a vague, chaotic silhouette that hadn't yet condensed into a clear shape.
Thirty-six tiers of lotus. The number tugged at his memory, insistent.
He knew that number. Intimately.
Then it hit him like a lightning strike.
In the Great Desolation, there was only one thirty-six-tier lotus.
The Primordial Green Lotus of Creation, born before heaven and earth themselves split apart.
No other lotus could reach thirty-six tiers. Ever.
Even the three Saintly treasures—the Grand Supreme Elder Lord's horsetail whisk, the Heavenly Lord of Numinous Treasures' jade ruyi, and the Master of Heaven's Azure Edge Sword—were derived merely from a twelve-tiered lotus.
Compared to the thirty-six-tier Primordial Lotus, those were… fragments.
And there was only one being in all the Great Desolation who could truly be called its peer.
The lotus had been his companion, his equal in status and origin.
Theodore swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
Words slipped out before he could stop them, half incredulous, half horrified.
"This is…"
"Pangu?!"
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