"Don't let your mind wander. Focus on happy memories."
"Ugh... ugh..."
The white mansion towering over Magnolia Crescent cast its shadow in the afternoon light. Inside, two girls faced each other in tense concentration.
The brunette girl, Edith Linagru, closed her eyes as if trying to recall something precious, holding her wand forward with trembling hands. Across from her, the blonde girl, Mirabel Beresford, stood with crossed arms, watching with critical golden eyes.
"Guh... ugh..."
Before Mirabel's unforgiving gaze, a silver mist-like substance began to emerge from Edith's wand. It slowly took the shape of an animal, moving as gently as flowing clouds, but Mirabel's face showed no trace of approval.
Instead, she snorted in disgust and began to scold her student mercilessly.
"Formation time: seven seconds. That's far too slow. If you're this sluggish in front of a real Dementor, your Patronus will be created before you can even start, and your happiness will be drained away."
"But..."
"The battle against Dementors is a race against time. The slower you are, the more happiness they drain from you, and eventually you won't be able to think at all. Once that happens, the 'happy memory' that triggers your Patronus won't come to mind. The key to Patronus magic is how quickly you can create it before their influence takes hold."
The Patronus was the natural enemy of Dementors, but the same applied in reverse. To create a Patronus, you needed 'happiness,' but Dementors drained it away. If that happened, you wouldn't be able to create the Patronus properly and would be completely defenseless.
"Create before being drained," it would not be an exaggeration to say that Patronus magic boiled down to this one point.
"Even so, it's not easy to come up with such memorable experiences... Just for reference, what kind of things do you think of, Mirabel?"
"......"
"...Mirabel?"
If you wanted a reference, it would be best to hear from someone who had actually created a Patronus. That was Edith's innocent question, but Mirabel didn't answer, only slightly distorting her face in what might have been pain.
She quickly made a small clicking sound with her tongue and returned to her usual cold expression, speaking dismissively.
"The events that make people feel happy vary from person to person. Telling you my feelings would only be a nuisance."
She dismissed the topic with a bored expression and sat down in her chair with practiced elegance. She then drank the tea that had been prepared and raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Are you feeling a little better?" she muttered, but Edith had no idea what she was talking about.
However, seeing the masked butler standing nearby looking apologetic, Edith guessed that the tea he had brewed must have been terrible.
"Take a break, Linagru. Sit down."
"Oh, sure."
Prompted by Mirabel, Edith sat across from her and drank the tea that was offered. Hmm, compared to the tea she drinks at school, it did taste a little weaker. However, Edith, who didn't know much about tea, didn't think much of it.
She nibbled on a cookie with her tea, then suddenly remembered something and looked up brightly.
"By the way, are you going to watch the Quidditch World Cup final, Mirabel?"
"The World Cup... Well, I'm not really interested... I just watched the Japan versus Ireland match the other day, so I'll be fine as long as I know the result."
The Quidditch World Cup was a major event that every resident of the magical world wanted to see. It would not be an exaggeration to say that all wizards were paying attention to it.
This year's final match between Ireland and Bulgaria was being held in Britain. It had been thirty years since Britain last hosted the event, and the British magical world was buzzing with excitement.
Of course, Edith was one of them and was hoping to attend if possible.
"What about you, Linagru?"
"Ah, I can't... I couldn't get tickets again..."
Edith said, slumping her shoulders in disappointment in response to Mirabel's question.
Tickets for the World Cup final were, of course, extremely popular and very difficult to obtain. No matter how much one wanted to go, that's what everyone in the British magical community was thinking.
As a result, fierce bidding wars and auctions took place, and only a select few lucky winners could attend.
"The Linagru family isn't that wealthy, and we don't have any connections... Plus, I'm not their biological daughter, so I feel awkward asking for something like that..."
"Huh? I didn't know that."
"Didn't I tell you?"
"I didn't hear that."
Mirabel picked at her cookies and waited for the other girl to continue. She didn't want to pry into family matters. If Edith wanted to talk about it, she would listen, but if she wanted to drop it, she would go along with it.
However, Edith didn't seem to have any particular feelings about the matter and began talking about it casually.
"My current father is my mother's second husband. Back when I was little, my real dad and mom... you know, my biological parents... they had a huge fight and got divorced."
"Well, that's a common story."
"Yeah. Apparently, the reason for the fight was the conflict between wizards and Muggles. My mom is a half-blood witch, but her family was a pure-blood noble house, so they were really into pure-blood ideology. But my dad is a Muggle. They started dating on a whim, and I ended up being born, but of course, it didn't work out..."
"...Pure-blood supremacy again? So, what happened?"
Pure-blood supremacy really was everywhere. Fed up with the topic, Mirabel urged Edith to continue, and Edith took a sip of tea before continuing her story.
"After that, my father took my older sister, and my mother took me, and we parted ways. Then my mother remarried into the Linagru family."
"...You had an older sister?"
"Yeah, but I don't even remember her face anymore. My mother also died of illness when I was nine... so in the current Linagru family, I guess I'm considered an adopted child."
"That's how it connects to the 'feeling of being out of place' you mentioned earlier."
Edith nodded while already reaching for her third cookie. However, there was no trace of self-pity on her face due to being adopted. She looked content with her current life.
"Well, I don't really care about that. My father treats me like his own daughter."
"Hmm, the girl who was so obsessed with bloodlines just two years ago now says she doesn't care? That's quite the turnaround."
"Stop bringing that up! I've already let it go!"
"Hahaha, don't get so angry. I'm just teasing you."
Mirabel said with a mischievous smile, playing with the empty teacup. Then, as if slightly intrigued, she asked another question.
"By the way, you said your mother's family is pure-blooded, right? What's the name of the family?"
"My mother's? Um... I think it was 'Valentine.' So my original name was 'Edith Valentine,' but..."
Clang!
Suddenly, the sound of breaking dishes echoed, and fragments of the white teacup scattered around. Looking over to see what had happened, there stood Mirabel, looking completely dazed... at least, it was the first time Edith had seen her like this in over three years of knowing her.
Her usually defiant, dangerous golden eyes were trembling, and for a moment, she even looked like a lost child. She simply stared at Edith with a blank expression, devoid of any emotion, as if she were completely lost in thought.
"...Valentine...?"
"Mi, Mirabel? What's wrong?"
"...No, it can't be... Such a common surname... It must be a coincidence... That's what it must be..."
"But... she definitely said she had a sister..."
"Wait! Mirabel, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"...!"
Edith's call seemed to bring her back to her senses. She opened her eyes wide, as if startled, then looked around and realized that she had lost herself. She snapped her fingers to call the butler, ordered him to clean up the broken dishes, then looked away, uncomfortable.
"...I'm sorry. I was taken aback by a surname that sounded familiar."
"It wasn't just a matter of being taken aback! What's going on?!"
"It's nothing... Don't worry about it..."
She said weakly, but her eyes clearly showed her refusal to talk about it. Probably, no matter how much she asked, Mirabel wouldn't answer and would just keep pretending not to know.
But there was something Edith had come to understand. Whether it was related to her mother's side or just a coincidence, the "Valentine family" was a taboo subject for Mirabel, a minefield she couldn't step on.
And Edith couldn't help but think that this wasn't just a coincidence. Because there was only one family named "Valentine" in the magical world, and it was a pure-blooded family.
On the train to Hogwarts, Mirabel and Edith were looking for an empty compartment when they ran into Harry and the others, who had just boarded the train.
As usual, Harry and Hermione were together, and Ronald Weasley, who had been in the hospital all last year, was also there. However, perhaps it was just her imagination, but they seemed to have a calmer aura about them, and the previous sharpness was gone.
"Hey, Harry, Hermione. How have you been?"
"Great. I had the best summer ever."
"I'm glad to see Edith is doing well too."
Harry and Hermione responded with cheerful smiles to Edith's greeting. Although Gryffindor and Slytherin students were usually arch-enemies, there was no longer any animosity between these three.
Over the past two years, they had crossed the walls of their dormitories to work together, forging a strong bond. It was truly unpredictable what would happen next.
"Oh, Weasley is out of the hospital too. It's been a while."
"Ah..."
Edith smiled and called out to him, but Ron only replied in a small voice and looked away. Until recently, he would have snapped at anyone from Slytherin, but there was no trace of that now.
What on earth had happened to him? Edith frowned.
"Hey, what's wrong with Weasley? Hasn't he regained his memory yet?"
"No, his memory seems to be back, but... he says his personality changed a bit during his year in the hospital... Plus, after a year away, everything looks different to him... I'm sure he'll be back to his old self eventually."
Hermione answered Edith's question nervously. Even though she said he would return to normal, she didn't seem very confident in her own words.
After all, this was a serious situation. It wouldn't be surprising if his personality never returned to normal.
"But you're at least a little happier, right? You seemed to enjoy the Quidditch World Cup we went to for Ron's discharge celebration."
"Oh, you went to the final match? That's so cool..."
Hermione's words made Edith look envious. The Weasley family was far from wealthy, but Arthur Weasley, the family's breadwinner, was an official at the Ministry of Magic. In other words, he had connections.
Thanks to those connections, he managed to get special seats at the World Cup, and he took Harry and Hermione with him to watch Quidditch as a celebration of Ron's discharge from the hospital.
"No, Edith, that's not it! Harry and I really wanted to invite you too!"
"I know."
Hermione hurriedly tried to explain to Edith, who looked disappointed, but Edith just smiled wryly. She knew Hermione and Harry weren't the type to do such a thing, and she was well aware that she wasn't Ron's friend.
In fact, if she had been invited, it would have been strange if Neville or Dean hadn't been invited too. Still, she was just disappointed that she couldn't join in the conversation about the World Cup final.
"But it seems like it wasn't just a fun game to watch, huh? According to the newspaper, some Death Eaters caused a commotion and even launched the Dark Mark."
"Oh, yeah, that's right."
Harry stammered at Mirabel's casual words. That's right, it would have been better if it had just been a fun game to watch, but trouble never let Harry and his friends off the hook.
Harry and his friends had been thoroughly enjoying the match and were satisfied, but it didn't end there. They witnessed a group of masked individuals lifting Muggles into the air and beating them mercilessly.
To make matters worse, the Dark Mark, the skull-shaped signal Voldemort launched when he killed someone, appeared in the sky, and the scene descended into complete chaos. What a stroke of bad luck.
"Harry, um... I know it's unlikely, but could it really be that 'he' has returned...?"
Edith asked Harry cautiously. The "Dark Mark" was a symbol of Voldemort that hadn't been seen in years. As such, rumors were circulating that it might be a sign of Voldemort's return.
"I don't think so,"
Harry answered uncertainly, but deep down, he too hoped it was just a rumor. That's because he had recently seen Voldemort's figure in his dreams and felt an ominous premonition.
Besides... besides, that's right. He doesn't have a physical body. He's a ghostly existence that can't survive without parasitizing others. He didn't want to believe that he could return from that state.
"Above all, he has no body. There's no way he can come back to life."
"He can."
Mirabel cut off Harry's hopeful words with cold certainty. Everyone's attention turned to Mirabel, who had so casually declared it possible.
"What do you mean, Mirabel?"
"There exists such an ancient dark magic. By combining the bones of a blood relative, flesh sworn to loyalty, and the blood of an enemy who hates you, one can create a magical potion to completely regenerate the body, a method of resurrection."
Body regeneration... no, it was more accurate to call it body creation. Mirabel herself had been researching this method, albeit in an unconventional manner, with the intention of incorporating it into her own "ritual."
This was because the book she had stolen from the restricted section when she was in first year had been incomplete. Upon reflection, this was only natural; if it had been complete, Dumbledore would never have allowed it to remain there.
Therefore, Mirabel had been conducting her own research to perfect the incomplete text, and as part of that research, she had also turned her attention to this method of physical creation.
"Wait! I've never heard of such magic, nor have I seen it in any book! How do you know such dark magic?"
"Granger, do you know about the Durmstrang Institute?"
"Huh? Yes... Of course I do. I heard Malfoy mention earlier that he was supposed to attend there."
"Then it's simple. I have a connection there. I possess nearly all the dark magic knowledge available at that school."
Harry and the others looked puzzled at the mention of connections, but Hermione was the only one who seemed to have an idea. She covered her mouth with her hand, looking startled.
"Come to think of it, I read about it in 'Great Wizards of the Wizarding World'... The current headmaster of Durmstrang! I think it was... Mavis Beresford!"
"Correct."
She smirked, nodding in agreement with Hermione's words. Though she wasn't particularly fond of her mother, the only thing her mother had going for her was the title of Headmistress of Durmstrang.
Thanks to that, she had never lacked knowledge of dark magic since childhood, and she could borrow any books on the subject she wanted from her mother. In fact, some of the spells Mirabel had created couldn't have been made without that knowledge, and it was essential for perfecting the "ritual" she planned to perform this year.
"Well, my mother doesn't matter. Getting back to the point, the bottom line is that if the conditions are right, Voldemort can be resurrected. ...Linagru, Weasley, don't jump at the sound of his name, you annoying fools."
"What?! You mean he can be resurrected?! You're lying, Beresford!"
Harry looked at Mirabel with a pale face. No, it wasn't just Harry. Ron, Hermione, Edith, and everyone else present waited nervously for Mirabel's next words.
They probably wanted her to laugh it off as a joke, but Mirabel wasn't that kind of person. Without any hesitation, she spoke the truth that everyone feared.
"If you think it's a lie, then so be it. But be careful, Potter. If I were Voldemort, I would seek the purest blood as the material for my resurrection, just to avenge my humiliation."
"The finest blood...?"
"Yes. The one who caused my downfall, who is still revered as a hero in the magical world, and who is called 'the boy who lived'... There is no one more deserving of the title 'enemy' than him."
Mirabel smiled darkly, tapped Harry on the shoulder, and whispered softly in his ear. Her voice was cheerful, yet tinged with an eerie anticipation.
The moment he heard those words, Harry felt as though he had been struck by lightning, his body frozen in place as terror coursed through his veins.
"Your blood, Harry Potter. For the next year, you'd better watch your back."
***
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