Defense Against the Dark Arts

Ron and Harry accepted the tutoring and finally managed, with great difficulty, to finish their homework.

Watching the two of them leave, Wizet fell into thought.

No wonder Hagrid had acted so unusually nervous when he had mentioned Fluffy before.

It seemed Fluffy had become the guard for the Trapdoor, helping watch over some treasure obtained from Gringotts.

"What am I thinking so much for?" he thought again, then chuckled softly. This matter had nothing to do with him.

Before long, another faint voice sounded.

"Did you let Harry and Ron copy your homework? That's wrong! We're definitely going to lose points again!"

Hermione held a thick book in her arms, her speaking speed as astonishing as ever, her brows filled with doubt.

Wizet raised his head. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw it just now..." Hermione pointed behind her, toward her "reserved" corner. "Ron and Harry brought their homework over. They must have come to borrow yours."

"Then where is my homework?" Wizet asked softly, spreading his hands to show the copy of Theory of Metamorphic Transfiguration.

Hermione was momentarily at a loss for words. Her ears instantly flushed red, and she said in a fluster, "I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

Wizet replied calmly, "They completed the homework themselves. I only helped answer some of their questions. It's that simple."

He now understood a little why Ron and Harry sounded dissatisfied whenever they mentioned Hermione.

Such a blunt, impulsive personality really made it easy for others to find her hard to accept.

"But that's what I told them too!" Hermione said indignantly. "I told them that if they copied homework, they would definitely be found out and lose points!"

"And then I also said... if there was anything they didn't understand, they could come and ask me. It was clearly all explained in class, so why didn't they take proper notes?"

Wizet suddenly found it a little amusing. "You said all of that?"

"Mm!" Hermione nodded. "All of it!"

Wizet continued, "Do you think they were happy to hear you say that?"

"Why wouldn't they be..." Hermione hesitated. "They shouldn't mind... I was doing it for their own good..."

"Hmm..." Wizet frowned. "Actually, I saw your Transfiguration last time. Turning a matchstick into a needle..."

"You were too greedy. You thought you could complete the magical transformation in a short time like me. Do you think you have that ability?"

Hermione's body trembled, and her eyes reddened slightly. "You..."

"Don't you understand yet?" Wizet smiled faintly. "What I just said was only an imitation of what you said to Ron and the others."

"No one likes being lectured, and they're even less willing to have someone use a condescending tone to order them around, point out their shortcomings, and deny their abilities."

"I know you're doing it for their own good, but if you want them to accept your suggestions, you can't only criticize them."

"It's about time. I'll be going first." He paid no attention to Hermione, who stood frozen in place, and left the library with Theory of Metamorphic Transfiguration and his notebook.

He had plenty of time on the weekend, and he planned to continue exploring this magnificent castle and gain more ancient magical power.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was an extremely important course. Its content included encountering all kinds of dark magical creatures and learning about dark magic-related jinxes, hexes, and curses.

In this course, they could also learn quite a few offensive spells and understand how wizards ought to fight.

In addition, the course itself was a hot topic—from forty or fifty years ago onward, no professor had taught it for more than one year.

Even Ravenclaw students would swear solemnly, "I'm afraid this course itself is cursed!"

Finding a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every year had already become Dumbledore's top problem.

For this reason, the teaching standards of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors had also become wildly uneven.

As for Quirrell, who was currently in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts, students generally did not think highly of him.

First of all, Quirrell's appearance was peculiar. He wore a purple turban wrapped around his head that gave off the smell of garlic.

During class, the students had to endure the ever-present smell of garlic.

Second was Quirrell's class content. He would stammer through the textbook, then stammer through an explanation of it, making only slight extensions beyond the material and lacking any real practical combat content.

Such a classroom experience really could not be called good. Quite a few students called it "a substitute for A History of Magic" and openly caught up on sleep in class.

"The Mucus Curse! This is... is an ancient spell..." Quirrell began stammering through the lesson again.

"After the wizard... the wizarding world war... the improved Mucus Curse re... returned to the textbooks!"

Among dark magic, the most dangerous were curses, and the Mucus Curse happened to be a curse.

However, in Quirrell's explanation, the spell's effect was very simple—it made the victim's nose run severely, as if they had caught a bad cold.

The name and description of the Mucus Curse were both very ordinary, and coupled with the stammering voice, at least half the students began to doze off.

Even the Ravenclaw students could not hold out. They simply took out the homework Snape had assigned yesterday and began writing furiously.

Wizet always finished the homework left in class on the same day.

Combined with his rich experience in A History of Magic, this allowed him to piece together the lecture content with difficulty and absorb a small amount of knowledge.

Like a jigsaw puzzle, piecing together the stuttering classroom content was also a kind of enjoyment for him.

The Mucus Curse was not as simple as one might imagine.

According to Quirrell, this spell had undergone several modifications. Especially after the wizarding world war, the power of the Mucus Curse had been thoroughly diminished.

"Professor Quirrell!" Wizet raised his hand. "May I ask, do you know how powerful this magic was originally?"

The clear, ringing voice instantly woke the students in class, and they looked around blearily for whoever was speaking.

"Oh..." Quirrell also seemed to wake from a dream. "Mr. Lovegood, wh-why would you think that?"

Wizet said, "Because this is a curse. As one of the most dangerous kinds of effects in dark magic, it shouldn't only be able to give someone a stuffy nose, right?"

"Hehe... you're listening v-very carefully!" Quirrell laughed, gratification showing in his eyes.

Among the many students who had been spacing out, Wizet, who had been seriously listening, taking notes, and thinking, stood out completely.

Quirrell continued, "The reason this magic is... ancient is that its inspiration came from illness or... or plague! A plague deadly enough to kill!"

"In other words... the original effect of this curse could... could be used to kill people! It was a killing curse!"

"A killing curse?" A magic related to death naturally drew the attention of the students present.