The young witches and wizards in the Great Hall were still animatedly discussing the earlier drama. Meanwhile, Kai Adler had already led Hermione up to the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.
Dumbledore, already waiting inside, smiled as he saw them arrive.
"I'm very pleased you brought Miss Granger along, Professor Adler," he said, eyes twinkling. "For today's lesson, her presence is quite important."
Kai raised an eyebrow and glanced at Hermione. The girl looked pleased by the recognition, though she tried hard to maintain an air of composure. Her effort made Kai's heart itch with amusement.
She's only twelve. Twelve. He reminded himself firmly. Six more years. Just six. We're just friends. Pure, innocent friends…
The middle-aged man trapped in an eleven-year-old body kept repeating the mantra in his head.
Hermione, unaware of the internal conflict her mere existence stirred in her "professor," turned excitedly to Dumbledore.
"Are we learning a new spell today, sir?"
Then quickly added, "I'm not trying to be impatient! I've just… finished all the spells in the second-year curriculum."
Dumbledore smiled like a contented grandfather. "Indeed, Miss Granger. For your age, I daresay you're the most naturally gifted witch I've ever met."
Hermione's restraint cracked under the compliment. She beamed, and Kai couldn't help but smile too.
Her joy was so radiant that for a moment, she filled his whole vision. Her smile lingered in his thoughts.
Dumbledore, watching the scene unfold, raised an eyebrow in private satisfaction.
This boy has love in his heart. But it is restrained, mature. Such a bond will not lead him astray—it may well anchor him, prevent him from walking Grindelwald's path.
And more than that, Dumbledore thought, this particular emotion would be vital for the lesson ahead.
He cleared his throat.
"Today, you will indeed learn a new spell. But be warned—it is not simple magic."
Hermione straightened. Kai focused.
"This spell is drawn from what we call ancient magic," Dumbledore continued. "It is far more complex than anything taught in the standard curriculum. Most adult wizards struggle with it. You must be prepared."
Kai's interest sharpened at those two words.
"Ancient magic? What does that mean?"
Dumbledore gave a brief nod.
"Magic has existed for as long as humanity itself. The earliest spells—some passed down from druidic traditions, others from lost Continental lineages—are what we now call ancient magic."
"However, much of it has been lost. Those spells that do survive are either incomplete or extremely difficult to wield. Only a handful remain intact today."
Kai frowned slightly. "So the magic we use today… it's all watered down?"
"Not all, but much of it, yes," Dumbledore admitted. "Many common spells are simplified adaptations of ancient ones. Reduced in power, safer, more teachable."
"Castrated versions," Kai muttered, unimpressed.
He had long suspected as much. Most modern spells felt like trying to channel a river through a straw—his magic was stronger than the vessels designed to carry it.
But not all spells had that limitation.
He suddenly asked, "The Fiendfyre Curse—was that one of the ancient spells?"
Dumbledore gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Indeed. Fiendfyre is ancient—Dark Magic, born in the old catacombs of the Carpathians. Like many ancient spells, it is unpredictable, devastating, and often impossible to fully control. It consumes as easily as it obeys."
"But not all ancient magic is dark. The spell I intend to teach you today is quite the opposite."
He reached into his robes and slowly drew his wand.
This was the first time Kai had seen it up close.
The wand was an odd shade of pale, nearly bone-white, carved with distinct segmented ridges along its length—like beads strung together. Something about it stirred his memory.
Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Professor Dumbledore's wand looks a bit like yours, Kai!"
Startled, Kai withdrew his wand for comparison. Though different in design, the material was unmistakably the same: elder wood.
Dumbledore paused, his gaze narrowing slightly as it fell on Kai's wand.
"That wand… where did you obtain it?"
"It was sent to me by… someone. Elder wood shaft. The core is made from remnants of my Obscurus."
Understanding dawned in Dumbledore's face. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You must be cautious with that wand. Use it responsibly—and do not let others see it if you can help it."
Kai nodded slowly. At first, he'd thought the uniqueness of the wand lay in its Obscurus core. But clearly, the elder wood itself carried meaning.
"Elder wood… what's special about it?"
Dumbledore hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"I'll tell you more later. For now, let us focus on the spell."
Recognizing the deflection, Kai didn't push further. He'd dig into the restricted section of the library later. That was, after all, where he and Hermione spent most of their free time.
With a deep breath, Dumbledore lifted his wand and slowly traced a glowing circle in the air.
"Expecto Patronum."
A burst of pure white light surged from the wand's tip, cascading like liquid starlight. It shimmered and coalesced into a radiant barrier that floated before them, illuminating the room with a warm, protective glow.
As the magic spread, both Kai and Hermione felt it at once—a profound sense of peace, safety, and joy. It was as though the very light had a soul of its own.
But something else happened too.
Deep inside Kai's core, the Obscurus recoiled. It contracted like a wounded animal, curling in on itself as if terrified of the Patronus's light.
Kai's eyes widened.
This spell can suppress the Obscurus!
His heart surged with elation.
He had to master it.
No matter what.