Kai Adler touched his nose, mildly exasperated by the look Hermione gave him.
But inwardly, he felt he'd pinpointed the root of the issue.
He raised his wand and cast Expecto Patronum again.
A silvery glow emerged from the tip, more solid than before. Still no full Patronus—but no maggots either.
A second clean attempt.
Hermione eyed him warily. "You're not thinking about Malfoy again… are you?"
"How could I?" Kai said with a dry chuckle. "This time I was remembering my first day at Hogwarts."
"It seems you've located the problem," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
Kai nodded. It was, without doubt, the Obscurus.
Or rather, his own emotions, the ones tied to it.
An Obscurus, after all, was born of repression—of a young wizard's fear, pain, and anger twisted into a dark force. Ever since his earliest training in Nurmengard, he'd learned to control it.
To bind it.
To bend it beneath icy will.
And he had grown adept at concealing the storm beneath the surface.
But now, when casting Expecto Patronum—a charm that required the release of positive, pure emotion—those same habits worked against him.
Worse, when he thought of Hermione… there had been warmth. Affection. Perhaps even the trace of a forbidden thought or two.
That was enough.
To the Obscurus, these emotions were vulnerabilities—cracks in his armor.
And the Patronus, sensing the darkness tainting the magic used, rejected him.
The irony was absurd: the best memory he had—the warmth he felt toward Hermione—was both his strongest source of joy and the most "impure" in the eyes of the magic.
He spun his wand between two fingers.
"My memories with Hermione should be enough to cast a Patronus," Kai said slowly, "but the emotions aren't pure. The Obscurus is interfering."
Hermione blinked at him, thoroughly confused. "Not pure? What do you mean by not pure?"
She was utterly innocent in the ways that mattered. To her, their shared time had been full of friendship and admiration. Kai, on the other hand, knew far more than he should for his apparent age. His soul was not that of a boy.
Dumbledore's expression turned lightly amused, but then softened.
He understood.
He always understood.
"Kai's soul," Dumbledore thought silently, "was forged in a crucible of discipline, loss, and isolation. Not even Gellert could bleach out the weight of that knowledge. And now the boy must cast a spell that demands emotional release, not restraint."
Dumbledore sighed and turned, pacing.
In the background, Kai tried again.
He thought about life at Hogwarts. About flying lessons. Friendly teasing in the common room.
Even—hesitantly—about Nurmengard, and his long hours of debate with Grindelwald by firelight.
None of it worked.
The mist at his wand's tip wavered and vanished.
He had no beautiful memories that didn't tie back to her.
He smacked his lips. Well. That's unfortunate.
"Kai," Dumbledore said gently, "the more joy a memory holds for you, the stronger the Patronus becomes."
"What you need is a memory that brings pure, untainted joy. Not love, not pride. Just joy. Uncomplicated, childlike joy."
Kai fell silent.
No pride. No attachment. No twisted affection.
Just… joy?
Dumbledore clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "That's enough for today. Patronuses can't be forced. Try letting go a little. Experience things. Be eleven."
He offered a wink and shuffled off down the corridor.
Hermione reached over and poked Kai lightly on the shoulder. He was unusually quiet.
"You alright?"
He gave her a tired smile. "I'll be fine. The professor is right. Maybe I've been thinking too much like… well, not like a student."
"You should call him Professor," Hermione corrected automatically.
They both laughed.
Over the following days, Kai made good on his word.
He let everything go: the Chamber, the Basilisk, the cursed diary. He set them aside like someone taking off a heavy coat. For once, he just… lived.
He attended class earnestly. Turned in homework. Assisted in Lockhart's disaster-prone lectures without any snide remarks.
He even let himself get dragged into Weasley and Potter's mischief, joining in with the quiet smile of someone watching life unfold, rather than directing it.
He wasn't the disciple of a dark wizard. He wasn't a master of obscure and forbidden magic.
He was a student. Just a boy. Eleven years old, give or take a soul.
On a bright, chilly morning, the four of them arrived early to the Charms classroom.
Today's lesson was Professor Flitwick's domain. Ron and Harry whispered excitedly about the new spell, while Kai and Hermione took their seats.
Professor Flitwick climbed atop a stack of books and beamed at them all.
"Today," he squeaked, "we'll be learning the Tickling Charm! Yes, yes, very useful in duels and useful for—well—lightening the mood!"
He gave a delighted chuckle.
"Who would like to volunteer to experience the charm firsthand?"
Predictably, the class looked away, suddenly engrossed in the carvings on their desks.
Kai noticed Flitwick's eyes settle on him—and he felt immediate danger.
The professor's gaze was gleaming with curiosity.
Kai could read it clearly: So you're the one who stood against Snape in the Duelling Club? Let's see how you fare when you're helpless with laughter, hmm?
Kai's instincts screamed. He did not want to lose control like that in front of a room full of students.
If word got back to him—Grindelwald would probably crucify him just for the humiliation.
Without moving his face, Kai's hand dipped under the table and flicked his wand subtly.
Across the room, Ron suddenly yelped and leapt to his feet, clutching his backside.
Professor Flitwick's head snapped up in delight.
"Oh! Mr. Weasley! Eager to volunteer, are we?"
Ron looked horrified.
Kai folded his hands on his desk and gave Hermione an innocent look.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You did something," she whispered.
"Prove it," Kai whispered back.
Hermione huffed.
But even she couldn't suppress her smile.