In the Great Hall, Lucien quietly spooned oatmeal into his mouth.
The warm porridge slid down his throat and settled in his stomach, easing the worst of the headache.
It still throbbed, but at least it wasn't the skull-splitting pain he'd woken up with.
He ate while listening to the chatter bubbling up and down the long tables.
"Did you see that silver mist last night? It was gorgeous!"
"I was grinding through homework and dead tired, but the second the mist hit me I felt amazing."
"I dreamed about something from when I was a kid and woke up grinning like an idiot…"
A surprising number of students were talking about the silvery mist.
Lucien felt a flicker of awkwardness, but his brain finally started turning again. From the way everyone was reacting, his Patronus Charm practice last night had clearly worked.
And in terms of range, it had worked way, way too well.
Even the Hufflepuffs were talking about it—their common room sat deep underground, while Ravenclaw's was high up in the tower. The mist had basically swept the entire castle from top to bottom.
Slytherin students barely mentioned it, probably because their dorms were even farther away under the Black Lake.
Still, reaching all the way to the Hufflepuff basement was already ridiculous.
How could a Patronus Charm cover that much ground?
Was it because he'd burned through every drop of his magic?
Lucien's magical reserves were abnormally high. Even as a still-growing teenager, the sheer volume of power he carried was far beyond normal. When he poured everything into a spell, the strength, range, and duration all shot way up.
But the bigger question was why the Patronus Charm had drained him completely in the first place.
He vaguely remembered the moment he cast it—his magic suddenly felt guided, rushing out of control toward his wand like a dam breaking.
It hadn't felt like "giving it everything." It felt like someone had cranked the valve to maximum and then snapped the handle off.
He hated that total loss of control.
He'd been too careless. He'd assumed a simple Patronus practice wouldn't cause any real trouble, yet here he was. He needed to find time to ask Dumbledore about it.
"Morning, Lucien."
The greeting snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione heading over, each carrying their breakfast.
Harry noticed Lucien's pale face and asked, worried, "You okay? Want us to walk you to the infirmary?"
Seeing Hermione and Ron looking just as concerned, Lucien forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just stayed up a little too late last night. I'll be good after some rest."
Hermione let out a small sigh of relief as she sat down. "Books say staying up late is terrible for you, especially at our age. Growing bodies need proper sleep…"
Ron dropped into the seat beside Lucien, leaned in to study his face, then slid a basket of little steamed buns his way.
"George and Fred always look like that the morning after they stay up exploring the castle. Eat something decent and you'll bounce right back!"
He was still chewing on half a sausage, so his next words came out muffled. "Hey, Lucien, did you catch that silver mist last night? Super weird stuff. Hermione said it made people remember happy things. Shame I was already asleep."
Hermione shot Ron a glare for cutting her off, but he didn't notice.
Lucien's hand paused halfway to the basket. Uh… how exactly was he supposed to explain that the mist had come from him?
And why did an unshaped Patronus mist make people recall happy memories and have sweet dreams? Textbooks never mentioned that effect. Was this the soul talent Salazar had talked about—something tied to memory?
Harry sat down and said, "I dreamed about the day Hagrid came to get me from the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon had dragged us to that tiny shack on a rock in the middle of a storm, but Hagrid still showed up and brought me a birthday cake. First one I ever got. The dream felt so real—not all fuzzy like normal dreams…"
The corners of his mouth lifted without him realizing it.
Clearly that memory meant a lot to him, and getting to relive it had left him happy.
Hermione set her spoon down, a touch of nostalgia in her voice. "I wasn't asleep yet. I was reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in bed. When the mist drifted over, I remembered winning my first award—the junior reading shorthand competition. The required reading list back then was…"
She trailed off, suddenly realizing she'd just lectured Lucien about the dangers of staying up late while she'd been doing the exact same thing. She looked a little embarrassed and her voice grew quieter.
Only Ron wore a regretful expression. "You guys all remember your dreams. I had a bunch last night too, but I can't recall any of them now."
Harry asked, "What do you think that mist was? Some kind of magic? Or maybe just another weird Hogwarts resident creature?"
Even after almost two years in the wizarding world, Harry still felt like he knew almost nothing about magic. This ancient castle kept surprising him with strange and wonderful things.
After ghosts, moving suits of armor, the Basilisk, house-elves, and everything else, a misty magical being didn't seem that far-fetched.
Ron shook his head. "No clue. Bill and Charlie never mentioned anything like it. I'll ask Fred and George—if it's something fun, there's no way they missed it…"
Listening to them, Lucien felt even more awkward.
Major screw-up.
He'd let a simple spell practice spill out and affect the whole school.
At least it hadn't been dangerous. Still… why did his Patronus mist make people remember happy things and have pleasant dreams?
He made a mental note: next time he tested any new or experimental magic—including when he finally brewed a simplified version of the Philosopher's Stone—he'd teleport somewhere remote first. Deep mountains, empty desert, deserted island—anywhere with no one around.
If things went sideways, at least no innocent people would get caught in it.
It occurred to him that maybe this was why some wizards chose to live deep in the wilderness in the first place.
Lost in thought, a small silver-white phoenix suddenly flew into the Great Hall.
It wasn't large, and it gave off a gentle silver glow. Its half-transparent body left a faint trail as it glided through the air.
It circled once overhead, then flew straight down and landed right in front of Lucien.
He blinked at the half-illusory phoenix.
This looked like… Dumbledore's Patronus?
The next second, Dumbledore's warm voice emerged from inside it:
"Come to my office when you have no classes."
With that, the phoenix gave a gentle flap of its wings and dissolved into countless tiny fragments of silvery-white mist, vanishing into the air.