Seeing everyone's varied reactions to his demonstration, Harry nodded lightly with satisfaction.
This was within his expectations.
Most students had at least some basic understanding of what Dementors were and why they were so dangerous, even if they'd never encountered one directly before.
After all, the Hogwarts Express had once been guarded by actual Dementors specifically arranged by the Ministry of Magic during Sirius's escape. Many of these students had been on that train, had felt that cold, had experienced that creeping dread even through train car walls.
The memory was still fresh and frightening.
"I think everyone now clearly understands that this is no joke or game," Harry's clear voice broke through the heavy silence that had settled over the room. His tone was serious. "What I'm saying is that dealing with Dementors and other dark creatures is also an essential part of our learning curriculum going forward. We need to be prepared."
He paused, letting this sink in, his eyes sweeping across every face.
"I'll say this one last time before we continue—if anyone feels too afraid or uncomfortable to continue, you can leave right now. No one will blame you or think less of you."
This time, after actually experiencing a Dementor's presence and Harry's expectations, the remaining students finally truly understood the serious weight and genuine danger of the "Defense Against the Dark Arts Study Group."
This wasn't going to be casual wand-waving and theory discussion.
Several students who had come primarily just to watch out of curiosity or because their friends invited them exchanged uncomfortable, uncertain glances with each other.
After a moment of silent communication, they quietly, somewhat shamefacedly withdrew from the crowd and left the classroom with lowered heads and avoiding eye contact with anyone.
Harry quickly counted the numbers.
About six or seven had left. Fewer departures than he had honestly expected after such a demonstration. Most had chosen to stay despite their fear.
That was encouraging.
"How astonishing!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed from his observation position by the wall. "Truly remarkable for someone so young! I dare say there are very few adult wizards in all of Britain whose Patronus Charm can compare with Harry's in terms of power and solidity. Don't you think so, Professor Westeros...?"
He turned to look at Adrian expectantly.
"Professor Westeros?" Flitwick repeated when no response came.
"Oh... yes, quite impressive," Adrian finally replied, but his voice sounded distant and somewhat absentminded, his attention was clearly elsewhere.
His sharp gaze had just been on someone specific in the crowd of students rather than on Harry or the general scene.
That someone was John Selwyn, the unusual first-year Slytherin.
Just moments ago, during the Dementor's terrifying emergence, in stark and notable contrast to the other panicked students who'd screamed or fled or frozen, first-year John Selwyn had maintained his remarkable composure throughout the entire encounter.
When the Dementor had appeared from the trunk, spreading cold and despair, John hadn't screamed like the others. He hadn't retreated toward the door or collapsed. He'd simply stood calmly in place, squinting at the creature with what looked like interest rather than fear.
This was definitely, without question, a talented prospect worth educating, Adrian thought with growing interest. Natural courage and composure were rare qualities that couldn't really be taught.
He made a mental note to pay more attention to this child named John Selwyn going forward and see how he developed.
With the preliminary screening complete and only committed students remaining, the meeting officially began for real.
Harry raised his wand again with confidence, his movements were smooth and controlled. "Expecto Patronum!"
The magnificent silver stag reappeared instantly, combining from light into solid form. It began pacing slowly, majestically around the classroom, weaving between students, emanating a reassuring warm glow that pushed back shadows and filled the space with comfort and safety.
Several students relaxed in its presence.
"This is the Patronus Charm," Harry began explaining to the remaining students. "An advanced defensive spell specifically designed and developed to combat Dementors and other dark creatures that feed on positive emotions. It's one of the most powerful protective magics known."
He paused for emphasis before continuing, wanting them to understand the significance.
"But the Patronus doesn't just mechanically repel dark creatures through raw power—it works by channeling your happiest memory, your strongest positive emotion. Casting it requires you to actively summon and focus on your most joyful moment while maintaining concentration and will.
This process helps the caster stabilize their own emotions in crisis situations and strengthen their mental resolve against despair,"
Harry explained. "The spell creates a shield of pure positive feeling that dark creatures simply cannot penetrate. Though the learning process may be difficult and frustrating, mastering it is absolutely crucial for survival."
In fact, choosing the Patronus Charm as the very first spell for the group to learn together had been the result of Harry's careful deliberation and calculated thinking, not just random selection.
Not only because it was indeed an extremely powerful and useful defensive magic that could save lives, but more importantly, it could effectively filter out those students with ulterior motives or hidden agendas.
While summoning a complete, corporeal Patronus was admittedly somewhat difficult and beyond most students initially, practically anyone with genuine good intentions and happy memories could at least produce some quantity of silver mist as a starting point.
The presence or absence of that mist even after a long period of learning would reveal much about a person's inner nature.
By this point in the lesson, Adrian had already anticipated with reasonable certainty that today's first meeting would proceed very smoothly without major incidents.
And what followed was exactly as he'd expected and hoped.
Under Harry's patient, precise guidance with moving between students, offering individual corrections and encouragement, demonstrating the wand movement repeatedly—all the gathered students began seriously attempting to cast the Patronus Charm for themselves.
The classroom soon echoed with an enthusiastic chorus of "Expecto Patronum!" incantations being called out in various tones ranging from confident to hesitant to desperately hopeful.
Most students' wands initially produced only a few wisps of thin, insubstantial silver mist that dissipated quickly. Or in several cases, nothing emerged at all despite multiple attempts, leaving the casters frustrated.
"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" Ron vigorously waved his wand with exaggerated movements, his face was screwed up in concentration, putting everything he had into the spell.
But only a faint, pathetically small white spark emerged briefly from his wand tip before fading immediately with no other reaction or result.
He made a frustrated sound in his throat and looked somewhat irritably at Hermione standing motionless beside him, arms at her sides, not even attempting the spell. She was simply watching others practice with a knowing expression.
Ron couldn't help asking with annoyance, "It's much more difficult than I thought... This is going to take forever. Aren't you even going to try, Hermione? Why are you just standing there?"
Hermione remained calmly in place with her hands clasped behind her back in a relaxed posture. A satisfied smile appeared across her face.
"I've already learned the Patronus Charm successfully, actually. Would you like me to demonstrate?"
Ron immediately rolled his eyes toward the ceiling with exaggerated exasperation—honestly, this was completely and utterly within his expectations.
"Are we just going to stand here and watch the children practice?" Professor Flitwick asked Adrian nearby, his small hands clasped together. "Shouldn't we be offering guidance and correction?"
"Harry has done enough preparation and is handling teaching quite well, hasn't he?" Adrian responded with a casual shrug, clearly unconcerned. "I think we'd be perfectly fine even if we weren't actively watching at all. The Patronus Charm isn't an inherently dangerous spell that requires—"
His confident words were suddenly cut short mid-sentence.
"BANG! BANG!"
Two loud, sharp explosive sounds rang out in rapid series, echoing through the classroom and making everyone jump and turn toward the source.
Smoke wafted from one corner.
Adrian's head lashed around immediately to look toward the source of the disturbance.
Sure enough, predictably, it was Seamus Finnigan—Harry's Gryffindor roommate and Hogwarts' most accident-prone student, famous for accidentally blowing things up in every class.
A small smoking crater had appeared in the stone floor in front of Seamus's feet, black and scorched. Seamus himself wore his characteristic expression that clearly said "used to it" and "not my fault".
Heaven only knew how he'd managed to turn the gentle Patronus Charm into an explosive spell.
Some people just had a gift for disaster.
In any case, despite minor incidents and varied success rates, the first official meeting of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Study Group concluded smoothly and successfully overall.
Students departed energized and talking excitedly, most clutching notes they'd taken and already planning to practice before the next meeting.
When Adrian finally left the classroom after helping Harry pack away the secure Dementor trunk and answer a few lingering student questions, checking his pocket watch, he discovered it was nearly lunchtime.
His stomach rumbled on cue.
After saying polite goodbyes to Professor Flitwick who departed toward the staff room still chattering excitedly about Harry's teaching, Adrian headed in the opposite direction toward his office on the upper floors.
He had specifically informed the Hogwarts house-elves earlier this week that he would be taking his lunch meals in his private office recently rather than joining the general staff table in the Great Hall.
Just as Adrian turned the corner of a corridor and was about to climb the spiral staircase leading up to his office level, a painfully familiar pink figure suddenly appeared directly ahead, blocking his path as if she'd been lying in wait.
Umbridge stood there in her usual garish pink cardigan—today's version featured even more bows and frills than usual, along with a matching pink hair ribbon.
She wore her characteristic sickeningly sweet, completely false smile plastered across her toad-like face. But those prominent, bulging eyes held absolutely no trace of sincere warmth.
"Good afternoon, Professor Westeros," she began in that high, girlish tone that grated on nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
Her voice dripped with false pleasantry. "I happened to notice you just came from... um, that little thing the students organized on their own, what was it called..."
She tapped one finger against her chin in exaggerated thought.
"That 'Defense Study Group' or some such? Is that the correct term? You just came from supervising their meeting, didn't you?"
Adrian glanced at her with complete indifference, his expression flat and uninterested. His steps never paused or slowed—he simply walked right past her as if she were an inanimate obstacle or perhaps a piece of particularly ugly furniture.
Well, he genuinely wasn't particularly inclined to waste his time and energy conversing with a ball of pink, murky, toxic air at the moment.
He had better things to do with his afternoon.
The sickly sweet smile on Umbridge's face instantly froze completely, became stiff and unnatural, as if someone had suddenly splashed a large bucket of ice-cold water directly in her face or slapped her across the mouth mid-sentence.
She clearly hadn't expected or prepared for Adrian to ignore her so directly and dismissively, to not even pretend basic courtesy. Most people at least pretended to respect her position.
Immediately, her face flushing with anger and humiliation, she spun around sharply. Her high-heeled shoes clicked loudly and rapidly on the stone floor as she caught up with Adrian in just a few quick steps.
This time she positioned herself aggressively in front of him, completely blocking his forward path with her body.
Only then, forced to stop or physically push past her, did Adrian halt his forward steps. He looked at her as if he had only just now noticed her presence, his face was showing a perfectly timed expression of surprise.
"Oh, it's you, Umbridge," He said with bland neutrality. "Is there something you need from me?"
Umbridge was certain Adrian had deliberately ignored her initial greeting which made her angrier. But just as she was about to lose her maintained temper, she suddenly recalled the specific, serious warnings that Minister Fudge had given her some time ago.
She could hear his voice in her memory:
"Dolores, be especially careful of two people at Hogwarts. One is obviously Dumbledore—he's dangerous, powerful, plotting against me. And the other... is Adrian Westeros. The young professor, the one who teaches Care of Magical Creatures. Don't underestimate him or make an enemy of him unnecessarily."
The memory of that warning made Umbridge pause.
She forcibly suppressed the sharp rebuke that had almost escaped her lips. Then she squeezed out a tight, false smile that looked really painful to maintain.
"I think it's necessary to formally notify you, Professor Westeros," She said, her voice becoming more officious and self-important. "According to the Ministry of Magic's latest official appointment and by order of Minister Fudge himself, I am now Hogwarts' High Inquisitor."
She deliberately paused for effect, watching his face.
"I have been granted authority to comprehensively regulate and review all school activities to ensure everything returns to... the proper track, shall we say. Any student organization or club without approval must undergo thorough review and evaluation before being allowed to continue."
Those small, cold eyes stared intently at Adrian's face, trying to find some trace of unease or concern or fear there. However, Adrian merely clapped his hands together a few times in perfunctory.
His expression remained completely neutral, utterly unmoved. His voice was flat and emotionless as he responded, "How wonderful for you. What an achievement. Congratulations. Well done. Goodbye, then."
With that, not waiting for any response or giving her time to continue speaking, he stepped forward decisively once more. He walked straight past Umbridge without another glance, heading toward the staircase.
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