Two and a Half Witches

After the joint Herbology class with Ravenclaw came History of Magic, taught by Professor Binns.

It was the same as ever.

That familiar, intimate feeling even made Glenn's eyes sting with tears.

That monotonous, dreary tone, that unchanging cadence—like a slow but relentless hypnotic machine gun, firing drowsiness indiscriminately at every student who came to class.

To be honest, being able to take the thrilling, sweeping events of magical history and make them so boring, so dull, was a talent all its own.

Still, that wasn't entirely Professor Binns's fault—after all, he was just a ghost now.

The professor had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fireplace, and when he went to teach the next morning, he forgot to bring his body along. And so, he muddled his way into becoming a merciless teaching machine... ahem, a ghost.

Even Glenn didn't know exactly when he'd started teaching at Hogwarts.

Because as far back as a hundred years ago, Professor Binns had already been a diligent, hardworking ghost teacher...

No salary, no compensation, no need for rest—as long as there was a class, he showed up on time. He was practically the school's dream employee.

Rumor had it that Headmaster Black once considered rehiring some very old, dying professors to return to Hogwarts and teach.

Publicly, he said that older professors had more teaching experience and were better at classroom instruction.

But in truth, looking at the living example of Professor Binns, Glenn always felt that old Headmaster Black might have had other motives...

The Charms professor was a short man named Flitwick, who had to stand on a stack of books just to reach the lectern during class.

The content of his lessons was fine, but sometimes the pile of books he stood on wobbled a bit, making you worry that if he moved too much, he'd topple right behind the lectern and vanish from the classroom.

Though Professor Flitwick had never said anything, for some reason, Glenn had a gut feeling.

This professor might have some goblin blood.

Aside from his short stature, there was a certain look he'd occasionally cast that always reminded Glenn of those glorious days during the goblin rebellion.

Of course, that was just a personal feeling.

In reality, Glenn thought Professor Flitwick was probably just checking to see if the students understood, not trying to blow their heads off.

As for the next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, the whole class was genuinely looking forward to it.

Glenn was also curious about how a professor with a Dark wizard fragment stuck to the back of his head would manage to teach a decent Defense class.

For that reason, he was even willing to temporarily break his usual habit and grab a seat in the front row.

And in a class everyone was so eager for, he wasn't the only one who wanted to sit up front.

Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Marcus Belby beside him had all staked out front-row spots early, eager to hear the new Defense professor's first lecture.

And Professor Quirrell didn't disappoint them.

Within ten seconds of entering the classroom, he made the students in the front row catch a very unusual smell.

Well, that wasn't a rhetorical device called "symbolism."

They really did smell that unusual odor.

If he had to describe it, it was an incredibly strong smell of garlic.

Even Glenn, who often handled garlic and loved adding it to his kitchen ingredients, couldn't help but furrow his brow.

You can imagine just how strong that smell was.

Malfoy's face was twisted in pain, forcing him, at such a young age, to develop wrinkles that didn't belong to his years.

As for Daphne, being a girl, she was more sensitive and had a keener sense of smell. Right now, she had her face buried in her arms, wishing she could tear off her own nose—until the class ended.

As for Theodore, well, he was a tough guy.

His face showed no expression at all, and he sat motionless in his seat, enduring the entire Defense class.

If it weren't for the fact that when class ended and everyone else was scrambling to leave, he was still sitting there, motionless and staring blankly, Glenn would have kept believing he was a tough guy.

Instead of suspecting he might have been suffocated to death.

"Do Dark wizards nowadays all want to possess someone else and just stink people to death with garlic?"

During lunch in the Great Hall, Glenn was seriously pondering this question.

To be honest, the papers were always saying that wizards in the magical world were getting worse with each generation.

But in truth, he hadn't believed that back then.

After all, a hundred years ago in Britain, Dark wizards were everywhere, vicious magical beasts were everywhere, and rebellious goblins were everywhere, trying to kill wizards.

Their existence had cost the new generation of wizards dearly.

According to professional reports, out of ten promising young witches and wizards, only about two and a half would successfully grow up.

Why half?

Because the remaining ones, when added together, barely made up that half!

And that was exactly why, on his quest to track down ancient magic, Glenn never missed a chance to reduce wizard casualties whenever possible.

To the point where Dark wizards, once flooding the streets, were now hard to find even as a fragment, let alone catching one in public.

The vast sea of vicious magical beasts would only be seen in textbooks by wizards of this generation, if not for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

As for the rebellious goblins... many of them had actually opposed Ranrok, the leader of the goblin rebel army at the time, so things weren't too harsh—only the most stubborn and dangerous elements were completely eliminated.

Though it seemed like nearly an entire generation had been cut down, the goblins' situation was still fairly decent.

At the very least, they were allowed to manage Gringotts in what was supposedly the most~ rigorous manner.

Logically, wizards of the new era after him should have had more room to thrive and more time to develop.

At the very least, it should have been a scene of vibrant life and thriving competition!

But thinking of the garlic-scented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor he'd just seen, and recalling how the British wizarding world had nearly been torn apart by a dark wizard over a decade ago, Glenn couldn't help but feel that the future of British wizardry looked bleak.

Soon, though, he took a deep breath and pulled himself together.

"Maybe this is just an isolated case—after all, sometimes the gap between one wizard and another is even bigger than the gap between a wizard and a Muggle."

The same went for dark wizards.

Perhaps that wizard named Voldemort was far stronger?

Just as Glenn was thinking this, a commotion broke out at the neighboring table.

"Malfoy! Give it back!" Harry and Ron shouted almost at the same time.