Thursday.
Snape got up early as usual.
Except for the day he was brutally defeated in Quidditch, he was in a pretty good mood every day.
Especially after yesterday's successful persuasion of Dumbledore to become the substitute professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He has two classes today; he teaches first grade in the morning and sixth grade in the afternoon.
Tomorrow, first graders have Potions, and in the afternoon, second and third graders Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Despite such a packed work schedule, Snape showed no dissatisfaction whatsoever.
He put on a large black robe, then thought for a moment and changed into a tighter-fitting one.
It's very comfortable to leap high into the air.
I turned around and swayed to the side; there was no discomfort.
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in the mirror, completely devoid of his previous coldness.
He carefully tidied his hair, but once he stepped outside, he was shrouded in a gloomy aura.
"Creak—" The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts on the fourth floor was pulled open from the outside.
"It's Snape!" Seamus exclaimed, his head spinning.
"Finnegan, you don't welcome me?"
"No, Professor!"
Snape walked into the classroom with a cold smile.
"Very good, no one was late."
He glanced at Harry. "Potter, what would you do if you got bitten by Werewolf?"
"Uh—" Harry was stumped by the question.
"Should we use Dittany?"
"Ah—yes."
Snape strode forward. "Wrong!"
Dittany can only heal wounds, but it can't stop you from being assimilated into Werewolf!
"Oh," Harry nodded his little head, looking a bit dejected. "Then what should I do?"
"Cut off the part that's been bitten in time." Snape's sneer dropped to freezing point.
"What if we encounter a dark wizard?"
Harry knew there was a second question.
"Shield Charm!"
"Clever tricks—"
"Then what spell should I use?"
"Disarming Spell".
Snape shook his head dismissively. "Without a wand, a dark wizard can't use even the most powerful Dark Magic."
He strolled over to Vincent. "Well, in some ways Wayne did a decent job."
"Professor, are you praising me?"
"I didn't ask you to answer." Snape turned and walked back.
"One last question, Potter!"
He placed his hands on Harry's desk and leaned down to gaze into the large eyes beneath Harry's.
"What should you do if you are facing Killing Curse?"
Hermione couldn't help but speak up, "Professor, this couple—"
"Shut up, Granger!" Snape yelled, then continued to stare at the trembling Harry.
The Wizarding World knows that the Potters died from Voldemort's Killing Curse, which he then reflected back and became the Boy Who Lived.
The Chosen One sounds noble, but few know the hardships involved.
"I—I—" Harry clenched his fist tightly.
"What should you do, Potter!"
Snape looked directly into his eyes, his gaze penetrating as if striking the very soul.
"I—" Harry straightened his chest, no longer trembling, "I will face it like Vincent did, and cut it in two!"
"Wrong!" Snape leaned back. "You should run far, far away. Don't overestimate yourself!"
Vincent raised his hand, wanting to say something.
All it takes to break the Killing Curse is a Sword of Gryffindor, and Harry, after a few more years of martial arts training, might just be able to do the same.
"Put your hands down, Wayne!" Snape glared at him fiercely.
Vincent glared back defiantly.
He knew this lesson wouldn't be easy.
In the first Potions Class, this person deliberately asked three questions.
The daffodil symbolizes love, while the mugwort symbolizes pain; together, they express the pain of love.
Bezoar is an antidote, expressing the idea of how to relieve this pain.
The flower language of wolfsbane is living for love, while the flower language of aconite is malice. Considering the above...
The romance of a top student?
Snape blinked, his eyes dry from staring.
Vincent immediately raised his proud little chin.
"Good, very good." Snape walked up to the podium.
"In my class, you don't need to bring textbooks, you only need to bring your brains."
He glanced at Neville and Seamus. "Those whose names I call, come up here and cast Disarming Spell on each other— Malfoy!"
Draco swaggered up.
"Wayne!"
Vincent blinked, then looked over with a mischievous grin.
"Professor, I—"
"Shut up." Snape flicked his wand, tossing the entire podium into a corner of the classroom.
He stood below, his gaze fixed steadily on the two young wizards on the stage.
"Come on!" Draco gritted his teeth and drew his wand.
"Won't we shake hands first?" Vincent extended his right hand.
"Snort!"
Just as Draco was about to swat the hand away, he naturally withdrew it.
"Professor, may we begin?"
Snape gave him a cold glance. "I'll count to three."
The two turned their backs to each other at the same time.
"One."
Vincent took a step forward.
"Two."
He reached for his magic wand inside his school uniform with his left hand.
"Three."
"Expelliarmus!"
Draco quickly turned around and was struck in the chest by a spell.
He flew backwards and glided out.
Vincent tilted his head to dodge the wand that was being thrown at him. "Professor, Malfoy has a very serious case of mysophobia."
"Get up!" Snape let his wand fall to the ground.
Draco stood up and picked it up with a resentful look in his eyes.
There was a time when he offended his own dean because he couldn't control his mouth.
But no matter how anxious he was, there was a certain forbidden word he would never utter.
"One more time."
Snape's words stopped the two who were about to go down.
"This time, Wayne is not allowed to use his wand."
Vincent looked at him suspiciously.
Physical Disarming Spell?
Draco's face instantly lit up with a smile.
"I knew they were targeting us." Ron whispered to Harry, "Without Vincent's wand, Malfoy will only lose even worse."
Hermione, standing beside him, looked at Snape with the same suspicion.
This person is well aware of the skill levels of both sides; another round wouldn't change the outcome.
"One."
Vincent stood still this time.
"Two."
Draco has already taken several steps.
"Three."
The two turned around at the same time.
"Whoosh—" Vincent dodged the Disarming Spell by tilting his head and charged forward with both feet.
The Little Lions all knew the outcome.
Some of the Little Snakes also know this.
Draco, who recited the incantation again, seemed to have a vague idea of the outcome.
Before the second spell was cast, Vincent had already pressed down on his right wrist, which was holding the wand.
The Disarming Spell grazed through his gray-gold hair and struck the ceiling.
"Wayne, you—"
"You lost."
Draco lost his balance, and his vision became a blur.
He lay on the ground, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He now had only one thought: why was there no trace of the Disarming Spell he had just cast?
"Here you go."
Vincent put down his wand without even glancing at him.
"Next group, Potter— "
Snape glanced at his students, "Goyle!"
Hermione suddenly understood.
The substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts professor understood the benefits of Muggle combat, which is why he deliberately Vincent and Draco to have two matches.
With a wand, one's physical reaction speed is faster; without a wand, one can still achieve physical disarming.
The seemingly gloomy Old Bat was actually genuinely concerned for the students.
However, Vincent, who knew the whole truth, did not think so.
He was more inclined to believe that Snape wanted to embarrass Draco than that Slytherin's students joined the Owl Court Club.
"Next up, Weasley and Crabbe!"
It'll also be a good opportunity to train Harry.