After leaving the tutoring classroom, Lucien returned to the Ravenclaw dormitory. His roommate Terry was nowhere in sight.
He didn't hesitate. He opened his suitcase and stepped inside.
Layer after layer of pocket space folded around him.
The magical creatures scattered throughout the suitcase world spotted him and greeted him in their own ways—soft trills, low rumbles, and curious clicks. Lucien waved back, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Seeing them brought back the memory of the dozen wildly different Patronuses he'd summoned earlier. He almost laughed out loud. I really do have the makings of a zookeeper.
Had the first Patronus Charm drained him dry because there were simply too many? Each one needed magic to hold its form. Add them all up and the cost had to be brutal.
The first time, his magic had exploded outward like a dam bursting. This time the drain was noticeably smaller—manageable, even.
He'd gotten better at controlling emotion, memory, and raw magic. Snape's tutoring had been brutal but effective. The old bat had even drilled him on Legilimency and Occlumency while they were at it.
The fee, though… that was going to be a pain.
Snape wanted a custom alchemical tool as payment. One that could actually stop the Killing Curse.
Lucien still remembered the flat, almost casual way Snape had said it—like he was asking for a self-stirring cauldron. The man had been a real Death Eater once. He'd watched Voldemort throw Avada Kedavra around like cheap fireworks. That kind of fear didn't fade.
The Killing Curse didn't play by normal rules. Protego couldn't touch it. Physical barriers had to be stupidly thick and hard or they'd just shatter. Replicating the counter-magic with alchemy wasn't possible yet—the spell simply didn't exist.
So he'd have to get creative. If you can't block it… dodge it.
Lost in thought, he found himself standing outside the sealed iron house where Nagini was kept. He stopped short of the door.
The ground was empty and quiet. He raised his wand, pointed it forward, and took a steadying breath. The magic-replenishing potion Snape had given him had already restored a solid chunk of his reserves. Top-shelf work, as always.
With his natural talent, his magic came back fast anyway. One more spell wouldn't kill him.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver-white mist poured from the tip of his wand—slower, steadier, nothing like the earlier flood. It flowed out in a controlled stream, quiet and deliberate.
After successfully forming a full Patronus once, the spell felt different. More natural. Like learning to ride a broom: terrifying the first time, then suddenly effortless once you found your balance.
The mist no longer drifted aimlessly. It listened. It gathered, spinning tighter and tighter.
Silver threads wove through the air, crossing and knotting, sketching out a shape. Head. Shoulders. Arms. Legs. Hair. Face. Clothes.
It happened in seconds.
A person stood before him.
No—a Patronus.
If it hadn't been silver-white and faintly translucent, it would have looked completely human. A young man in his early twenties. Short, messy hair. Gentle features with soft lines and no harsh Western angles. A classic East Asian face.
Lucien stared at it and felt something tight in his chest. That was his face. The one he'd left behind more than a decade ago when he crossed over.
"Long time no see," he said quietly, almost afraid the words would break the moment. "I'd almost forgotten what I looked like."
The Patronus didn't speak. Couldn't. It simply stood there, silver eyes fixed on him with calm, unblinking attention.
Lucien slowly closed his own eyes.
This was the truest reflection of the soul.
I am my own guardian god.