Hogwarts: Please, Just Graduate Already! Chapter 44

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System Power Rankings: Student, Adult Wizard, Elite Wizard, Auror, Elite Auror, Professor, Archmage, Legendary, Mythical (Local)

Wayne had no objections to the other parts and felt the evaluation was fairly reasonable. Dynamic Perception and Thunder Lord's Decree had a huge impact on actual combat. Combined with his current physical abilities, even several of the academy's professors would be unable to do anything to him.

Because their Charms simply could not hit him.

The only thing that left him somewhat speechless was this magic power.

What the hell was 0.8 Snape? Was he some magical version of Kakashi? Did Professor Snape not care about his dignity?!

In the dungeon, Snape, who was studying Ho-Oh's tears, sneezed.

The next day, the little wizards were still discussing the thunder and lightning from late last night. "A Thunderbird must have passed over Hufflepuff," one Hufflepuff student declared with certainty.

"I once went to Arizona in the United States with my grandfather. The lightning in the valleys there looked exactly like last night's.

"I heard Dumbledore was practicing magic." Another little wizard had a different opinion.

A Ravenclaw refuted him. "Impossible. How could there be such a terrifying Weather Spell?

"Maybe it was some other powerful magic."

Wayne listened to their discussion and silently drank his oatmeal porridge, with no intention of joining in.

The moment he heard what had happened last night, he knew there was a high chance he had caused it himself.

He had not expected that even hiding inside the Room of Requirement would trigger such phenomena outside. It seemed he had to be more careful when drawing cards in the future and do it there every time. Thinking about how recklessly he had drawn cards in the dorm before, Wayne was rather glad that he had not drawn Thunder Lord's Decree back then.

Otherwise, he would have had to give Toby and Norman each an Obliviate. Meanwhile, his two roommates looked utterly confused. "What are you talking about?" "Did it thunder last night?"

Justin Finch-Fletchley looked at Toby in confusion. "You didn't hear it?" "No." Toby blankly said, "When I woke up, it was already morning. Thunder and lightning? I had no idea at all.

Norman echoed him. "Me too. I didn't feel a thing. What about you, Wayne?"

"I saw it, but it disappeared after a while, so I went back to sleep." Wayne lowered his head even further. In order to make his two roommates sleep more soundly

he had added two drops of Draught of Living Death, also known as Draught of Living Death, to both of their bedtime drinks.

It was a powerful sleeping potion. Falling asleep after drinking it was not much different from dying. However, Wayne had controlled the dosage. Two drops were just enough to let Norman and Toby sleep soundly for eight hours.

As class approached, everyone stopped discussing it. The Little Badgers headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor.

By coincidence, the last lesson Quirrell had taught before being reported had been their class. And now, his first lesson after returning from sick leave was still with them. Quite a few people looked at Wayne.

If Wayne was still dissatisfied, would he continue filing complaints?

Wayne, seated by the window, said helplessly, "Stop looking at me. I won't deliberately make trouble for a professor.

"Hehe." Hannah smiled happily. "Wayne, if you want to complain again, make sure to bring everyone along.

Everyone nodded in unison. They had clearly gotten addicted to it.

The class bell rang, and Quirrell entered along with it. He looked no different from usual, still wearing that enormous turban and carrying the unpleasant smell of garlic.

The little wizards were greatly disappointed. The classroom became slightly noisy.

"Since class has begun, do not discuss irrelevant matters.

To everyone's shock, Quirrell was no longer stuttering. He even raised his head instead of staring at his books.

"I apologize for wasting a month of your time due to my personal health issues.

"However, with Dumbledore's help, I feel much better now." "Let's begin class.

The classroom fell silent.

Everyone realized that Quirrell really was different.

Wayne also sat up a little straighter and watched him closely.

Quirrell unusually pulled open the curtains, allowing sunlight to shine into the room, and said calmly:

"To study Defense Against the Dark Arts, you must first understand why we study this kind of magic.

"Is it for defense?" "Yes, and no.

"Studying Defense Against the Dark Arts allows you to use magic to protect yourself from Dark wizards and the Dark Arts.

"But fundamentally, this is an offensive subject." Tap, tap, tap!

His wand lightly tapped the blackboard, and three words appeared on it. "Defense, counterattack, defeat the enemy."

With just a few words, Quirrell had drawn in every little wizard, his voice carrying an indescribable charm.

Wayne understood that Quirrell did not possess such ability or presence. Then the one teaching could only be... Tom!

The reason Quirrell's mind had become unstable was Voldemort's possession. Letting him teach classes carried the risk of exposure.

In order to remain at Hogwarts, Voldemort had truly gone all out. Though he was only lecturing and not using magic power,

it was still no small burden for a damaged soul that struggled even to speak a few words.

When nothing was happening, Voldemort usually remained asleep to reduce energy consumption. Fortunately, Quirrell's private stash had been emptied by him in exchange for plenty of precious materials, as well as the Phoenix tears Dumbledore had provided.

This allowed Voldemort to recover some strength. Getting through this period should not be a problem.

"Defense is the core of everything."

Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—was the perfect example of someone who loved whatever work he was doing. Since he was teaching, he would not permit himself to be perfunctory.

If word got out, would that not damage the Dark Lord's reputation?!

While trying his best to remain in character as Quirrell, Voldemort brought out quite a lot of genuine knowledge.

"Survival is the first thing you should consider when facing danger. So-called defense is not limited to using Charms to neutralize an enemy's attacks.

"Dodging, even running away, are all part of defense."

"Mr. Lawrence." Quirrell suddenly called Wayne's name and asked, "If a Dark wizard stopped you, what would be the most correct course of action?" Wayne calmly stood and replied, "Analyze the other party's purpose, compare the gap in strength, and if battle is unavoidable, go all out."

A trace of appreciation flashed through Voldemort's eyes.

He truly hated Wayne, because Wayne had forced him into his current situation, leaving him no choice but to take the risk of stepping into the spotlight.

But he would not deny someone's talent because of a personal grudge. Only by facing an enemy's strength could one demonstrate one's own extraordinariness after defeating them.

Voldemort had done the same.

He had never been stingy about displaying Potter's uniqueness. He even referred to him as The Boy Who Lived.

It was all to prove one thing.

That he could defeat the so-called chosen one and shatter the shackles of fate. Though he had ultimately failed.

Because he did not understand Wayne's true strength, Voldemort did not consider Wayne much of an enemy yet. But that did not stop him from appreciating him.

Rationality, talent, methods, charisma. Every aspect was top-notch.

He had a little of Voldemort's own brilliance from those days.

"Very correct, Mr. Lawrence." Quirrell had Wayne sit down. "Before fighting, you must understand why you are fighting.

"Is it to survive, to defeat the enemy, or perhaps..."

The corner of Voldemort's mouth lifted slightly, but the expression quickly vanished. He did not continue. Watching the little wizards become completely engrossed in Voldemort's lecture, Wayne felt strangely conflicted.

What did this make them?

Voldemort's personal disciples, all future Azkaban inmates? Still, Dumbledore's judgment really was terrible. This level of teaching had actually been rejected for a Defense Against the Dark Arts position?

What Voldemort taught contained no specific magical knowledge, yet it was exceptionally important.

It was not something one could compare to merely learning a few Charms.

He was developing the students' fundamental understanding of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and even the Dark Arts themselves.

A towering building rose from level ground. Once one's mindset and spirit became strong, everything else would come twice as easily.

Just as Wayne had taught Hermione: when one's thoughts were focused and one's purpose clear, the success rate of casting magic greatly improved.

He really was teaching well.

Even Wayne had been drawn in. No wonder so many people had followed Voldemort back then.

"Once the definition of defense is clear and battle is unavoidable, you must seize the initiative and suppress the enemy.

"With the initiative in hand, you can advance or retreat. Advance to subdue the enemy, retreat to preserve yourself."

"To suppress an enemy, you must rely on more than powerful magic. Wisdom and experience are also your strengths.

"A glance, an action—each can reveal an enemy's intentions and the magic they are preparing to cast..."

Only when the class bell rang did the lecture abruptly end. Voldemort calmly drank some water and assigned homework.

"A two-foot essay on how to remain calm in battle and judge an enemy's movements through their actions.

"Class dismissed."

The little wizards awoke as if from a dream, and thunderous applause erupted below the podium.

Their excited shouts were enough to blow off the ceiling. Classrooms far away could hear them.

"That was amazing!"

"Professor, is this your true level?!"

Everyone was overjoyed. Not a single Charm had been taught during the entire lesson, yet they had learned something far more valuable than Charms.

The only thing that made them miserable was

the two-foot essay. Was he trying to kill them? Converted, that was sixty centimeters!

As they left the classroom still wanting more, some students were already looking forward to the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Mr. Lawrence, please stay behind."

Wayne was walking amid the crowd when he was suddenly called out.

The Little Badgers thought Quirrell wanted to settle scores with Wayne over the previous complaints, and they surrounded him protectively.

The lesson had been excellent, but the Little Badgers would not abandon their friend. "Don't misunderstand." Quirrell also guessed what they were thinking. "I simply have something I wish to discuss with Lawrence.

Wayne reassured them as well. "It's fine. Professor Quirrell won't do anything to me." Though he said that, his wand was already in his hand beneath his wide sleeve, and Dynamic Perception silently activated.

If Voldemort dared to make a move, he would definitely react immediately.

Wayne would treat a weakened Voldemort seriously, but he would never fear him. Since Wayne himself had said so, everyone could only leave. Soon, only Wayne and Quirrell remained in the classroom.

"Lawrence, although I did not teach any specific Charms in this lesson, it can barely be considered passable."

Quirrell's attitude was extremely gentle. "Could you give me some Phoenix tears? My Curse has not fully recovered yet."

"Professor, how about I give them to you after you teach us Charms next class?" Wayne said with a smile. Brat!

One day, I'll scatter your ashes!

Voldemort cursed inwardly, but his expression remained unchanged as he drew out a slip of paper. "This is a spell I obtained while exploring ruins. It is extremely powerful. Even I have not mastered it. Do you think it is enough?"

Wayne accepted it and looked it over.

Lightning Net. Using lightning as threads, it wove a net that could not only effectively restrain enemies but also inflict considerable damage upon contact.

What perfect timing.

He had drawn Thunder Lord's Decree last night, and today Voldemort had delivered a lightning-element spell.

Wayne smilingly put the spell away. "Then thank you, Professor."

Wayne would not learn it recklessly. He planned to have Dumbledore inspect it first. At a glance, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the incantation, but who knew what traps Voldemort had buried within it.

Though his strength was no longer what it had been, Voldemort was far ahead of others in magical attainment.

Having accepted the benefit, Wayne readily handed over the tears.

Quirrell quickly took them, afraid Wayne might change his mind, but his expression soon changed.

"These aren't the tears of your Phoenix?"

"No." Wayne said cheerfully, "My Ho-Oh has trachoma lately and can't shed tears.

"These are Fawkes's tears. They're both Phoenixes, so there shouldn't be much difference, right?" From beginning to end, Wayne had never intended to give Ho-Oh's tears to Voldemort. Recently, Fawkes had become Ho-Oh's little brother, so asking him for a few tears could not have been easier.