Quirrell's First Lesson

Chapter 48 Quirrell's First Lesson

"Finally, it's time for Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I wonder how good the new professor is."

"He seems so-so. I feel like he gets nervous easily, and he even stutters when he speaks, which isn't a good thing in class."

"What if they are actually very talented, but just not good at expressing themselves?"

"That's not necessarily true. He looks a bit young, and he wasn't very famous before, unlike Professor Baker last year..."

"Sigh, whatever, I can only teach for one year anyway. I just wonder how this professor will leave..."

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that morning, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who had almost all arrived, were gathered in twos and threes, discussing the new professor who seemed rather insecure.

crunch--

As the creaking sound of the door hinges turning filled the air, the students immediately sat back down quietly, their eyes filled with curiosity as the young professor, who looked tense, wore a large headscarf, and reeked of garlic, swayed as he walked onto the podium.

"Good morning!"

He forced an unnatural smile, his hand stiffly picking up the chalk. He turned and wrote a crooked name on the blackboard: "I am Quirinus Quirrell, a Ravenclaw graduate. It is an honor to... to be your... Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"So, shall we begin... begin taking attendance?"

Quirrell picked up the parchment from the podium, glanced at it, and then shuddered. His legs went weak, and he almost slipped off the podium.

"Hoo... Ah... Ken!"

He stammered—no, he stammered—and read it with a trembling voice.

"arrive."

Having already mentally prepared himself for this scene, Avada remained completely unfazed.

"Shabi No...Nott!"

"arrive."

Shabby silently rolled his eyes—he'd often been mistaken for a pure-blood from that former Death Eater family because of his surname. But the problem was, he was a half-blood wizard, and his surname was inherited from his Muggle father…

The list of only a few dozen people took Quirrell nearly five minutes to read through, albeit haltingly. He wiped his sweat, then put the parchment away with a sigh of relief, seemingly unaware that "roll call" was merely the simplest part of a class...

Meanwhile, the dark golden spiritual energy behind him remained dormant, showing no reaction even when Avada's name was uttered. It seemed Voldemort was still resting.

"Okay, all done."

Quirrell straightened his clothes, took a slow, deep breath, and began, "You're in your second year now... yes, so last semester was your first year. Last year you should have learned about the basic characteristics of dark magic, basic... basic wand-wielding skills and combat maneuvers, and..."

He paused for a moment before realizing, "Yes, and some of the simplest little evil spells, like the petrification spell..."

"In...in your second year of study, you will begin to delve deeper into...the principles of curses, and learn curses with more...more diverse functions, and combine them in battle..."

This opening speech seemed to be something he had memorized by rote, and he wasn't very fluent in it.

"After mastering the knowledge of the second year, you can even... uh, create some special evil spells according to your own preferences... no, I mean your own purposes. For example, twisting ears, tripping legs, tickling..."

"professor?"

A Ravenclaw student raised his hand and, after Quirrell nodded his permission, stood up to ask, "If we could really control the effects of curses at will, and if we kept increasing their effects and power, wouldn't it eventually develop into dark magic?"

"meeting."

Quirrell nodded without hesitation, but then his eyes widened in surprise, and he began to explain in a flustered manner, "Ah, no, I mean... I mean..."

"You should know that curses are the part of all spells that are closest to dark magic. Well... the only difference is that they are less harmful and don't... don't cause mental damage. There are even quite a few trained combat experts who can make some curses have the harmful effects that only dark magic can produce."

He seemed to shudder with lingering fear.

"Professor, since the harmfulness of curses can be comparable to that of dark magic, why don't we ban curses like we ban dark magic?" someone else raised their hand and asked.

"Well……"

Quirrell hesitated for a long time, finally managing to gather his thoughts just as the students below were about to burst out: "Because generally speaking, the harm caused by evil curses is much, much less than that of dark magic. The examples I gave were just rare cases. Moreover, since evil curses do not damage the mind, the user of an evil curse can usually maintain their sanity, unlike dark wizards..."

He seemed easily agitated when the topic of dark magic and dark wizards came up: "Dark wizards, due to their frequent use of dark magic, have suffered irreversible mental damage, which leads to..."

"them……"

Quirrell's face suddenly turned deathly pale.

"How are they? Professor? And are you feeling unwell?"

"I...I just..."

Suddenly, Quirrell's dark golden spiritual energy fluctuated slightly. After that, Quirrell gradually calmed down, and his tone returned to normal.

"This leads to dark wizards often becoming mentally unstable and erratic, making them more prone to harmful and destructive acts, and causing far greater damage to the magical world..."

"Wow."

Avada then realized what had happened—Quirok had inadvertently included his master in his explanation of the effects of dark magic on dark wizards, which explained his earlier nervousness. Voldemort's mental energy then flickered, likely reassuring him that he could continue and that maintaining the facade was paramount.

But to Avada's amusement, Voldemort's mental state didn't show any signs of "comfort" or "forgiveness," but rather more of "dissatisfaction" and "resentment"...

And so, amidst the stumbling and faltering lecture, Quirrell finally held on until the bell rang, then fled the classroom as if escaping, without even assigning homework, leaving behind a group of students chattering away about their reflections on the lesson.

"This professor, how should I put it... he gets nervous way too easily!"

"Yeah, if you didn't know better, you'd think he was lecturing a bunch of five-legged monsters..."

"His content was actually quite good, but his performance somehow diminished the overall effect... What a pity."

"If that's the case, how is he supposed to teach in real-world scenarios? What if he suddenly faints during the lesson?"

"Possibly. I heard that Professor Flitwick almost fainted when he called Harry Potter's name in his first-year class."

"real?"

"It's absolutely true, I'm telling you, back then..."

Yes, the students' conversations were still as unpredictable as ever, quickly veering off-topic. Avada nodded, packed her things, and left the classroom to attend the next class.

Yesterday he spent the whole night preparing a topic that was at a second-grade level, but one that he thought would pique Quirrell's interest and prevent him from rejecting the lesson he was going to teach him. He planned to present it to Quirrell tonight and see how it went.

(End of this chapter)