Professor Quirrell: Never Suffered Such Wrong

"...?"

Professor Quirrell froze for two seconds before finally snapping out of it.

His eyes went wide, the smile stiff on his face, as he stared in disbelief at Ethan, who looked utterly unruffled. He almost doubted his own ears!

What had Ethan just said?

That he should pay them for the privilege of attending his class?

This, this was completely upside down!

As Ethan's words fell, the entire classroom went silent.

The students playing wizard's chess stopped; those chatting and gossiping fell quiet. All of them turned their heads woodenly to stare at him.

Two seconds later.

The whole class sat up straight, their eyes blazing with sheer excitement!

This lesson was shared between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Ron clenched his wizard's chess piece tightly, ignoring the knight's indignant squawks in his hand, and muttered under his breath:

"Merlin's Y-fronts! Ethan just said what I've always wanted to say! This class is completely pointless! Refund!"

Harry twitched the corner of his mouth.

You don't exactly pay attention in the other normal classes either.

Though Harry was a bit more levelheaded than his friend, he had to admit he was just as thrilled inside.

Harry looked at Ethan, his eyes filled with deep admiration and respect.

It was insane, but Ethan always managed to do what others dared not, or only dreamed of doing.

So brave.

Ethan should've been in Gryffindor—

Oh, you say he's not righteous?

Never mind, then.

On the other side.

Ethan met Professor Quirrell's trembling gaze, smiled faintly, and picked up his textbook:

"The Disarming Charm, the Shield Charm, the Counter-Jinx, and how to defend yourself against dark creatures and forces. You haven't taught us a single one."

"A brand-new copy of Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection costs several Galleons, and even a used one often goes for a dozen or more Silver Sickles."

"Of course, it's not the money I'm upset about—it's the time."

"We only get seven years at Hogwarts, and if you keep teaching like this, we'll waste an entire year. That's a full seventh of it."

"Wasting someone's time is wasting their life. Professor Quirrell, you're slowly murdering us!"

His words landed in the classroom with weight.

Most of the Ravenclaws nodded in agreement, lifting their eyes from homework or textbooks to settle on Ethan.

In that moment, Ethan had voiced what they all felt!

They had been so excited for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and now they were just as disappointed.

Not to mention having to endure the double torment of the garlic smell and the stutter.

Many Ravenclaws had even started bringing earplugs to class!

That alone proved how hollow the lessons were.

"Heh, heheh!"

Professor Quirrell let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders twitching.

A flicker of barely concealed gloom passed through his eyes.

Damn brat... what audacity.

Did he know who he was serving?

Did he know that the Dark Lord, who once terrorized the entire wizarding world, now resided in whose body?!

Such a big mouth—when he found out the truth, he'd probably be too scared even to scream!

Still.

As much as he wanted to fire off a Killing Curse and shut Ethan up for good.

Quirrell, still putting on his act under Dumbledore's watchful eye, naturally couldn't do that.

He could only play the part of the bumbling fool, stammering, "Th-then, Mr. Vincent, wh-what do you suggest we do?"

Ethan: "Either pay us for every lesson you teach, or actually teach properly."

Quirrell had been chosen by Voldemort, and it sure wasn't for his stutter.

The person who broke into Gringotts and tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone was Professor Quirrell.

He had some skills up his sleeve and definitely knew a lot.

"As for the fee... let me think, one Galleon per person per lesson."

Hearing this, Ron's upper body shot upright, his eyes sparkling.

At the number, Quirrell's mouth twitched, and his fingers couldn't help but scratch the pocket holding his wand.

One Galleon per person per lesson?!

Why don't you just rob me?!

"W-well, Mr. Vincent, I'll teach properly, s-so please sit down..."

Ron slumped back in disappointment.

But.

After hearing that, Ethan didn't sit down. Instead, he continued:

"That's great. Professor Quirrell, I happen to have a question I don't understand."

Professor Quirrell: "..."

You ****!

"Y-you, go ahead..."

"I want to know," who is "Helga." Ethan said, enunciating each word.

Last night, stepping into the Mirror of Erised, a hidden location obtained on the Path of Moonlit Journey—

[Helga's Abandoned Mansion].

There, a treasure lay hidden.

Ethan needed to know about "Helga."

He would of course check the library, but recalling from the original story how the trio spent nearly half a semester researching Nicolas Flamel...

Ethan figured it was better to ask a professor first.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione Granger whipped her head around.

She hadn't heard the name "Helga" either.

But what Hermione cared about more was why Ethan was asking this question.

Could it be a key point for the final exam leaked by some professor?

Hermione pricked up her ears, her gaze sharpening.

"H-Helga?"

Quirrell's expression stiffened noticeably.

He could feel the terrifying presence at the back of his head slowly awakening.

"T-this isn't knowledge a first-year Young Wizard should master... too dangerous, hehe!"

As if jolted by electricity, Quirrell let out a nervous laugh.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, then suddenly broke into an utterly innocent smile: "Is that so? What a shame..."

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief: "Wait until you're in the upper years, then we'll talk—"

Ethan: "I happen to be very good friends with Draco Malfoy."

Quirrell: "Huh?"

He froze again, then his pupils contracted as if realizing what Ethan was about to say next.

"So—"

Ethan tilted his head, smiling kindly:

"I can ask the Malfoy family to have you transferred out of Hogwarts. I think, if a school governor insists, firing a professor who's unfit for their post shouldn't be too hard."

"Besides, I've heard that Mr. Lucius Malfoy is already quite dissatisfied with you."

"Don't you think so, Professor Quirrell?"

Hagrid was the Headmaster's trusted man, so he could stay despite repeated incidents.

And even he had been in and out of Azkaban several times.

You, a mere Dark Magic Defense professor, neither teaching well nor acting normal—what ability do you have to make the Headmaster protect you?

Once exposed, you'd be tied right in front of the Philosopher's Stone for Harry to grind levels on.

"..."

Quirrell's mouth hung open, completely speechless.

This, this brat dared to threaten him?! Threaten a professor?!

What infuriated him more was that he found himself unable to refute it.

Malfoy, you deserve a thousand deaths.

Below the stage, the students were all dumbfounded, one by one.

They had seen boldness before, but never this bold!

Even Malfoy himself, always so arrogant and overbearing, had never directly threatened a professor with his family background to their face!!

Hermione also turned her head in shock, staring at Ethan, a glimmer of admiration appearing in her eyes:

To obtain knowledge, he would stoop to such unscrupulous means.

Ethan, truly her strongest rival.

She had to learn this fearless spirit.

Hermione bit her lower lip, her fighting spirit blazing fiercely.

Quirrell trembled all over, forcing out an ugly, awkward smile.

Just then, a weak and hoarse voice rang out in his mind:

[Tell him... tell him about the deeds of the extraordinary Dark Wizard, Helga...]

[This child is very clever; his paintings carry real and eerie magic... This talent is unique and very precious...]

[Teach him, use him... take his power for yourself!]