What makes a reliable professor?

Pollyanna was a girl with a detached expression, wheat-colored skin, and light brown eyes. As he got closer, Edmund noticed that her hair wasn't pure brown, but rather a deeper chestnut red.

At the Sorting Ceremony, no one noticed that she actually had a limp. But during this magical marathon, this flaw became glaringly obvious. Not daring to slow down her already displeased roommates any further, she bravely let them go first, then gritted her teeth and continued on alone.

Fortunately, she arrived at the classroom within a safe timeframe. She looked a little disheveled, sweaty and all alone, but she was also very strong.

Unfortunately, the unfortunate girl had no choice. Looking around the classroom, she could only sit down next to Edmund.

By this time, besides the professor, only James and Sirius remained absent. Lupin shifted uncomfortably; in fact, he had tried to call his two other roommates before leaving, but both had declined his offer.

At that moment, Sirius was gritting his teeth in anger after receiving a letter from home; James, on the other hand, was fiddling with a Muggle baseball bat that his old father had sent him.

Fortunately, no one was late for the class except the professor. James and Sirius rushed into the classroom almost a second before class started, sweating profusely, and laughing and talking loudly, completely unfazed by the quiet atmosphere in the room.

"That damned nuisance!" Sirius snarled. "It's so annoying—I'll definitely find a way to teach that rascal a lesson!"

James, on the other hand, was laughing so hard he was out of breath. He seemed to find it all very amusing. Sirius's anger was somewhat lessened by his new friend's joy, and the two of them walked together towards the table and chairs on the side with more red furniture.

When James saw Edmund smiling and waving at him, he couldn't help but be taken aback; when he saw that Snape was sitting next to Lily Evans in the back row, the Gryffindor looked completely confused.

James had been raised with the deeply ingrained stereotype that "Slytherins are all evil and pure-blood." Therefore, the still-enthusiastic Edmund, a foreigner, completely bewildered James, leaving him unsure how to respond. Before he could figure it out, the classroom suddenly went dark.

"First of all, sit down properly—actually, you two are a bit late. If Professor McGonagall were here, she would definitely support me deducting 1 or 2 points from your score."

"A playful, aged female voice spoke. At the same time, the blue ribbons in the air began to glow, and the lens in the center of the classroom also began to illuminate."

"But I was a freshman once too, so I understand. Neither those mischievous staircases nor those loud, mischievous kids are easy to deal with! So, sit tight, sit tight. I'm not going to deduct any points, but if you think I'm some easy old lady, you're sorely mistaken!"

An old witch with a hooked nose, dressed in a blue velvet robe, slowly appeared. She wore a confident yet kind smile, but this gesture was enough to intimidate the 11-year-old wizard.

"I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Leather Hecate." The old lady blinked. "Perhaps you're wondering why an old woman like me is teaching you this class—and perhaps some of you even don't understand why Hogwarts would offer a separate Defense Against the Dark Arts course after Charms and Transfiguration already exist?"

"Then let's begin our first lesson here: Why me? I could list my past achievements—the head of the Auror office, the champion of the 39th British Wizarding Duels… but that's not very meaningful, students. I prefer to talk about practical things—I'm knowledgeable and good at practical application. Most importantly, I have a passion and dedication to teaching!"

The little old lady chuckled twice, just like a kind old grandmother.

"Therefore, as long as you study diligently, you will definitely learn something valuable by my side. As for what Defense Against the Dark Arts can actually teach you..."

Professor Hecate's expression changed. He quickly and softly uttered, "Reveal your true form!" As the spell struck the ceiling, everyone discovered that a pterosaur skeleton was hanging directly above them.

Professor Hecate gave a nostalgic look. She no longer needed to raise her voice, because even James and Sirius were holding their breath, and the students were silent, hoping she would tell the story behind the pterosaur skeleton.

The story is quite simple. When Professor Hecate was young, she learned about the story of her youth from a portrait of an older woman.

She was deeply fascinated by the fascinating history of dragons, poachers, dark wizards, and the Silent Ones, and from then on, she embarked on a path similar to that of her ancestors.

Professor Hecate eagerly studied and bravely put her knowledge into practice, finally acquiring this precious trophy during a raid on poachers. Although the poor little creature was still far from matching the size of the collection of Ms. Hecate nearly a century ago, it was enough to fulfill her childhood dream. To continue this passion, she chose to return to her alma mater and take up a teaching position.

"Wow, wow, wow!" James Potter was visibly moved. "Merlin's beard..."

Professor Hecate smiled at him, nodded to himself with satisfaction, and then emphasized:

"That being said, I must reiterate: why did Hogwarts, after already having 'Charms' and 'Transfiguration,' still need to create a separate Defense Against the Dark Arts spell?"

The old lady's expression turned serious.

"Because Defense Against the Dark Arts is the art of confrontation. Children, though I very much hope you'll never have to use it in your lives... Don't look at me like that, Gryffindors! Perhaps your minds are filled with adventure stories of fighting evil and thwarting plots, but those fantasies won't tell you what the price of such a life would be!"

Professor Hecate suddenly stepped forward and boldly placed her foot on a stool. She then lifted her wizard robes, eliciting a gasp from the crowd.

It was a prosthetic leg, its cold, metallic shell reflecting the faint light emitted from the lenses.