Sixth year—probably the happiest time for Hogwarts students outside of first and second year.
There weren't many academic burdens anymore.
They'd already passed their O.W.L.s, and their N.E.W.T.s were still a year away.
And the coursework had suddenly become light.
Except for a few students like Harry, Hermione, and Ron—who had earned mostly "O" or "E" grades—most students, starting in sixth year, could only attend a handful of classes.
To attend Professor Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts advanced course, an "O" on the O.W.L.s was mandatory.
Other professors weren't as strict.
But even then, having an O.W.L. certificate alone wasn't enough for advanced courses—Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology all required at least an "E." Divination was an exception; were it not for the course being labeled "advanced," its professor would've happily admitted anyone below "A." But Dumbledore wouldn't allow it.
Most students had only earned one or two "E"s.
Which meant that, even if they feigned a passion for learning and enrolled in Divination, their schedule had shrunk from nine subjects in third year to only three or four now.
They had all the freedom in the world to explore Hogwarts.
Or to fall deeply in love.
On the first day of classes, Professor McGonagall handed out the sixth-year timetables herself. She had to make sure every student met the requirements—advanced-level spells were often dangerous and profound, requiring students to frequently access the Restricted Section of the library.
Harry's schedule didn't differ much from last year, except for the absence of History of Magic.
Hermione had streamlined hers significantly.
Ron didn't drop a single subject, keeping even History of Magic, which, like Divination, only required an O.W.L. certificate to continue.
Neville had also scored excellent O.W.L.s. He was eligible for every course, including Defense Against the Dark Arts.
After their first Ancient Runes class, they proceeded to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The classroom had changed—not on the third floor anymore, but relocated to the old Potions room.
A dim, chilly dungeon.
The air still lingered with traces of herbs and potion scents.
The walls no longer displayed labeled jars of ingredients, but now held eerie paintings of wizards cursed by dark magic and diagrams of grotesque magical deformities.
Students whispered nervously.
All eyes flicked toward Harry.
If anyone could confirm Snape's real strength, it was Harry. But no one dared ask.
Soon, with a swish, the door opened.
Snape strode in briskly, and the room fell silent—an instinctive reaction developed over five years of dealing with him.
"Twelve students," he said, scanning the room, identifying each face. With a flick of his wand, the roster on the podium flipped open, and he checked off names.
"This number is a bit higher than I anticipated."
"Professor McGonagall suggested I lower the bar and allow students with an 'E' into the advanced course."
"But as you all know, I have no patience for idiots and incompetents."
"Twelve students is already too many."
He paused briefly.
"You're all quite lucky. In my view, most of you shouldn't have received an 'O' in the first place. Only three and a half of you actually have any real aptitude for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
His gaze settled first on Harry, then Neville, next Draco Malfoy, and lastly Hermione.
Clearly, Harry, Neville, and Malfoy were the "three."
Hermione was the "half."
They were the only ones who had faced dark wizards directly and survived.
"I had planned to teach you non-verbal spells," Snape said, pulling out his wand. "But as I said, I don't waste time on imbeciles."
"Instead, your first spell will be the Patronus Charm."
Some students gasped.
It was one of the most well-known ancient white magic spells, made famous by both Harry and Dumbledore.
It made sense that the advanced Defense class would include it.
Still...
They weren't expecting to learn it from Snape.
Snape? A Patronus?
Wasn't he supposed to be a master of the dark arts?
"Snape" and "Patronus" in the same sentence—it just felt wrong.
Snape scanned the class, prompting them to quickly rein in their expressions.
"I assume I don't need to explain this charm."
"You've seen Professor Dumbledore use it."
"It's a good way to see whether you truly earned your 'O's—or just got lucky."
"Without talent, you're no better than the Aurors at the Ministry—waving wands and summoning some useless mist."
He paused, then called out.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione stood. "Yes, Professor?"
"How long did it take you to learn the Patronus?" he asked.
She thought a moment. "A little over two months."
Snape raised an eyebrow and nodded. He gestured for her to sit. "A third-year girl mastering a corporeal Patronus in just over two months."
"My expectations for you lot aren't high."
"Two lessons. You have two lessons. I don't expect you to conjure a corporeal Patronus in that time."
"But I better see progress. If by the end you're still waving your wands like fools, unable to conjure even a wisp of light—get out."
"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, you're not to help anyone."
"Oh, and Mr. Weasley as well."
He gave Ron a sharp look. Groans echoed through the room—losing their help was a real loss.
Snape tapped the blackboard. Two lines of text appeared.
The incantation is 'Expecto Patronum'. There is no tone or wand movement required.
All that is needed is a happy memory and a will to protect.
He read the words aloud: "Now, you know everything you need to."
"Miss Granger, demonstrate."
Hermione raised her wand and took a deep breath.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A bright white light burst forth—her lioness Patronus leapt playfully out, brushing against Harry's leg affectionately.
"Begin practicing," Snape said with a dismissive wave.
Lesson over, as far as he was concerned.
As always, genius needed only a nudge—not hand-holding or meticulous instruction.
The differences between students soon became clear.
While most were still searching for the "happy feeling," Neville's wand was already emitting thick white mist.
Snape kept a keen eye on Malfoy.
Draco was Slytherin's best student, even recognized by Hogwarts to represent the house.
And...
Snape had always had a good relationship with the Malfoy family. When he was too weak and isolated due to being a half-blood, Lucius and Narcissa had treated him kindly.
The Malfoys trusted Snape.
Though Snape did not entirely return that trust in kind.
Draco was the Malfoys' only child—their sole heir. Snape didn't want to see him go down the wrong path.
Draco's progress matched Neville's. He was the only other student whose wand was reacting, producing visible magical mist.
And by the end of class, that mist had begun to take shape. With more practice, stronger belief, and a sense of inner oath, he'd surely master the Patronus soon.
Snape waved them away impatiently.
The students obeyed. Even Neville didn't ask Harry for help, instead heading to the library during lunch break.
Harry and his friends got to work on their assignments.
Ancient Runes had left a massive workload: two fifteen-inch essays and translations of two books, all due within the week.
That afternoon, they had double Potions.
Slughorn held class in a disused fourth-floor room, a place he said he loved.
As an experienced professor, he knew his stuff. While he was a bit flamboyant and loved name-dropping important acquaintances, his knowledge was solid. Unlike the cold, by-the-book Snape, Slughorn encouraged creativity.
Their first assignment: the Draught of Living Death—a powerful sleeping potion.
Slughorn promised to reward the best brewer with a small vial of Felix Felicis.
As he said this, he kept glancing at Harry.
It was all but decided—Harry would win.
After two periods, most students had failed. Some followed the book precisely, but high-level potions needed magical intuition and emotional balance. Others, free of Snape's strictness, went off the rails entirely.
Slughorn was unsurprised—Harry's potion was clearly the best.
Next were Hermione, Neville, and then Ron.
Hermione had brewed this potion before.
And skill in Herbology often translated to Potions mastery.
"Well done, Harry." Slughorn handed over the Felix Felicis.
"Professor, I think it's time we discussed detention," Harry said, accepting the vial and getting straight to the point.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates