New Professors and the First Lesson

As starlight from the Great Hall's vaulted ceiling streamed through the stained-glass windows, Dumbledore tapped his golden goblet. The dancing frosted gingerbread men abruptly froze, then sheepishly hopped back onto their plates beneath Professor McGonagall's glare.

"Before dinner begins, there are still a few matters I need to bring to everyone's attention..." Dumbledore continued once he saw that everyone was focused on him.

"First, Mr. Filch, the castle caretaker, has asked me to inform you that all students are forbidden from casting spells in the corridors." Seeing no objections, he continued, "You will also have noticed from the notices posted around the castle that the right-hand side of the Third Floor Corridor is forbidden to all students—without exception."

"And the forest is marked on the school map as the 'Forbidden Forest.' No student is permitted to enter it, as it is filled with danger."

"Besides that, we are fortunate enough to welcome two new professors this term." The old headmaster's blue eyes swept across the professors' table, and only then did Sagres finally put down his knife and fork.

"The first is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Professor Quirinus Quirrell."

The man in the purple turban rose nervously, only to accidentally knock over his mead. Just as the spilled drink was about to soak his copy of Curses and Counter-Curses, Sagres frowned and tapped the edge of the table with a bent finger. The liquid flowed backward into the cup and, beneath Quirrell's blank stare, was restored to normal.

Dumbledore's introduction continued. "And in accordance with the Ministry of Magic's new regulations, in order to improve the practical ability and theoretical foundation of Hogwarts graduates, the Board of Governors has decided to establish another new course—Charms Theory and Practice."

As he spoke, he gestured toward Sagres. "And Professor Sagres Greengrass." Dumbledore's tone was as cheerful as if he were introducing a new flavor of Cockroach Clusters. "He will be responsible for this new subject. Every student who has passed their O.W.L.s must take this course."

The students had mixed reactions. Draco Malfoy, seated at the Slytherin table, could not help muttering sarcastically, "My father said certain people don't even have NEWTs certificates..."

"Keep it down!" Crabbe and Goyle hurriedly stopped him with frightened looks. Though Malfoy was displeased, he did not continue.

Sagres rose from the professors' table and nodded to the old headmaster. He did not stop the students' whispers. In his eyes, their praise or criticism was meaningless. Then the Raven Noctis suddenly descended from above and landed on his shoulder.

"Quiet." A hoarse whisper squeezed from the Raven's throat, like rusty door hinges grinding together. The bizarre sight made everyone's hair stand on end.

The obsidian of the beast's left eye glimmered eerily, and it still held half a Mithril fragment in its beak.

Sagres raised a hand to stop the crazed Loctis. Then his calm voice entered everyone's ears. "I am Sagres Greengrass. Some of you may know me—madman, scholar, murderer? Call me whatever you like. But a friendly reminder: in my classroom, truth becomes a hungry beast. I hope you prepare yourselves in advance."

Having said that, he sat directly back down.

The Great Hall fell quiet for a moment. Then the Ravenclaw table suddenly erupted in enthusiastic applause—they were welcoming their former Ravenclaw senior, the once-renowned "dangerous genius."

A moment later, the feast officially began at Dumbledore's announcement...

"I think Dumbledore has completely lost his mind." Daphne Greengrass waved a dinner knife with exaggerated gestures. "He actually let a murderer teach us?"

"What can a half-blood bastard teach? How to brew potions with Mudblood snot?"

Pansy Parkinson curled her lip. "It seems you have quite a problem with this cousin of yours?"

"Shut up!" At those words, Daphne bristled like an enraged rooster. "He's a filthy Mudblood. The family disowned him long ago."

"I thought so. Otherwise, why did I hear that he personally sent your two uncles to Azkaban?" Malfoy could not help joining in when he heard them, though his tone was more gleeful than anything else.

"Hmph, Malfoy, don't forget why he was imprisoned not long ago. My mother said he used only one spell to blow five people up so thoroughly that not even bone fragments remained!"

Draco tapped his goblet with a silver fork. "What your mother said doesn't matter at all, because she can't even tell the difference between a Dementor and House-elves."

Daphne pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and slapped it onto the table. "At least she can tell that among the five Dark wizards he blew up, two were your father's Death Eater colleagues."

"How dare you..."

"Keep your voices down!" Crabbe could not stand it any longer. He anxiously reminded them in a low voice, "Didn't your elders warn you not to provoke him? After all, his hands have been stained with the blood of more than one pure-blood family..."

The table suddenly fell deathly silent, leaving only the shrill scrape of knives and forks against porcelain.

After the feast, in the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry and Ron sat before the fireplace discussing the mysterious professor. These days, news of the new professor was everywhere.

Harry stared at the dancing shadows in the fire, his scar prickling faintly.

He remembered the way Professor Greengrass had looked at Professor Quirrell during dinner—like the expression Uncle Vernon wore when he found a spider spinning a web inside a jam jar.

Honestly, he felt there was something strange about it, but Ron said he was just being paranoid.

"That bird was terrifying, wasn't it?" Ron said somewhat dramatically. "I've never seen a Raven that could talk, and its voice was so awful!"

Harry curled up in his armchair and, unusually, agreed. "I thought it was creepy too, but was that really a Raven?"

"What else could it have been?" Ron grew more animated. "Making a Raven speak—that definitely takes Dark Arts."

"Er, what are Dark Arts?" Harry asked. He had only just entered the magical world and knew little about such things.

"Just as the name says—dark magic. Evil magic."

Harry paused. "But I don't think Professor Greengrass is a bad person. And he even helped you fix your broken trunk on the train today..."

"I know, but the Daily Prophet also said he's killed people!"

"Say that again—it was self-defense!" Hermione strode over furiously, clutching a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"And that wasn't a Raven. It was a Nacafelin Raven, a magical creature that can speak naturally!"

Looking at the two speechless boys before the fireplace, Hermione gave Ron another faintly warning reminder. "And you'd better not try speaking badly about a professor behind his back. Otherwise, Gryffindor might lose points because of it."

Without waiting for either of them to react, she turned and left.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, their bafflement nearly overflowing. "Who does she think she is? The Minister for Magic?"

"Forget it, Ron. I think Hermione has made Professor Greengrass her idol."

"Idol? What's that?"

"Er, something like a spiritual leader."

"Ha, now I get it—like how Death Eaters worship the Dark Lord."

Charms Class Debut

Tuesday morning's Charms Theory class was Sagres's first lesson at Hogwarts.

When he entered the Charms classroom in Ravenclaw Tower carrying Introduction to Magic, he found that the room's layout had changed completely since his student days—the original oak tables had been replaced by circular stone platforms, and a floating crystal prism had been added to the center of the classroom.

He stepped onto the stone platform, swiftly scanned the students, then nodded. "Good. Everyone is here."

"I think we can skip the introductions. But since this is a newly established course, I must explain a few things before instruction begins." Sagres drew his wand and lightly tapped the lectern. At once, the entire lectern rose from the ground and floated into the air.

Ignoring the astonished gasps of the sixth-year students, he let the Introduction to Magic in his hand melt into liquid. It drifted into the air and formed a string of constantly shifting words—"Charms Theory and Practice."

"This course teaches only two things: charm theory and spellcasting practice."

Sagres glanced across the students, who were sitting as obediently as quails, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

It seemed his iron-fisted methods over the years had not been entirely ineffective. That was what he thought, though what he said concerned the lesson.

"Unlike Professor Flitwick's Charms class, this course does not teach from the Standard Book of Spells."

The words formed from liquid changed accordingly.

"Charm theory can help you build a framework for understanding magic. By analyzing the historical evolution of spells, it will make you aware of the blind spots in the current educational system."

At this, a Ravenclaw student could not help raising her hand. "But Professor, hasn't the knowledge covered in the Standard Book of Spells already been verified by history?"

Sagres did not even turn around. "The Standard Book of Spells you are studying is a product of the Spell Standardization Movement of 1890. It has only been in publication for one hundred and one years. Yet during the long ages before that, magic itself had already developed into something sufficiently brilliant and diverse."

"But we..."

"I know what you want to say!" Sagres interrupted her. "Of course I know you are all preparing for next year's NEWTs. But do not worry. This course will have no homework, so it will not add to your already heavy workload. On the contrary, mastering it will only let you pass your NEWTs more easily. There is no doubt about that!"

From the moment he said there would be no homework, the students had begun whispering among themselves.

"Professor, this course really has no homework?"

A subtle curve appeared on Sagres's lips. "Of course not, because—"

His wand carved an arc through the air, and every door and window clicked shut. "Practice is the best homework."

"Before the lesson officially begins, do you have any other questions?"

A small Hufflepuff boy shakily raised his right hand. "Then, Professor Greengrass, is learning this course only for the sake of exams?"

"Very good." Sagres nodded. "That is the question you should be concerned with." He spread his arms and spoke with a faint smile.

"The answer is—of course not!" Then, without further explanation, he began discussing other matters.

"Does anyone know how many people in the Auror Office die each year?"

As the students shook their heads, Sagres continued.

"How many unsolvable runes will a Curse-Breaker encounter in a lifetime?"

The students still shook their heads.

"When healers at St Mungo's encounter difficult patients, what should they do?"

This time, he did not wait for the students to react before giving the answer directly.

"The Standard Book of Spells can teach you to cast charms in the simplest way, but it is not the most comprehensive. And it is not the most effective, either."

With a gentle flick of his wand, the floating words exploded into stardust, forming across the ceiling a scene of medieval wizards carving spells in cuneiform script.

"The Ministry of Magic established Charms Theory and Practice so that underage wizards could learn survival skills beyond the framework of examinations before leaving school..."

"Whether you wish to become an Auror, a scholar, or an alchemist, you must master this course."

"Because the foundation upon which you will rely for survival in the future will be forged here."

Before his voice faded, silver ripples burst from his wand tip and swept across the stone platform.

Janet White, Ravenclaw's previous prefect, suddenly contracted her pupils. She could clearly feel the turbulent thoughts in her mind being smoothed by some force.

The instant the ripples touched them, every student's gaze became clear and sharp.

"Professor?" Her voice was so calm that it startled even herself.

Sagres stepped down the floating stairs, his black robes brushing over the words frozen in midair. "Emotion is the fog of cognition. Therefore, in my classroom, you require absolute rationality."

"Professor Greengrass, are you saying you cast a spell on us?" The students immediately noticed the changes in themselves.

A tall, thin boy observed his own body as he spoke calmly. "I'm afraid so. After all, if our emotions had not been interfered with, we should not be this calm right now."

"I believe this is improper. The Ministry of Magic would not permit you to cast an unregistered spell of uncertain effect on students." The Hufflepuff students likewise began voicing their "protests" calmly.

Sagres brushed his fingertips across a front-row student's textbook and answered without looking back. "'Mechanical Mind,' specially approved by the Department of Magical Education. Its effect is to keep all of you absolutely rational for ninety minutes—of course, the effect is limited to the classroom."

"Professor Greengrass, we have never heard of this spell."

"Because it is Emotional Magic that belongs solely to me."

As he spoke, every student's textbook flew onto their desks and opened to page twelve.

"First lesson: the distribution of magical nodes in the Summoning Charm..."

For the next ninety minutes, only Sagres's voice echoed through the classroom...

When the final strand of silver light faded into the ceiling prism, the bell woke those immersed in the lesson.

The students' emotions gradually returned, and they stared at one another—the complex rune patterns had been engraved into their minds as if carved by a blade.

The students finally understood why Professor Greengrass had said at the opening feast that "everyone would gain something in his classroom."

If Harry had been there, he would have dared to say that even Neville Longbottom could have recited those spell attenuation formulas in full.

With a wave of his wand, Sagres restored the transformed floating lectern to its original state. His deep voice rang in everyone's ears.

"Spellcasting practice will take place next Tuesday."

Then, ignoring the people who were gradually regaining their liveliness, he left the classroom without looking back.

The classroom immediately erupted.

"Cool!"

"No notes needed at all!" The Hufflepuff boy stared at his blank parchment. "I can actually remember every word Professor Greengrass said."

"If only the other classes could use this method too..."

The students chattered endlessly, each of them looking somewhat excited.