At half past six that evening, Brian visited the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with his head full of magical knowledge. Several students greeted him along the way, but he only gave them cursory nods, never slowing his pace.
When he discovered that a vast store of knowledge had appeared in his head, he slipped into a hazy state that was both extraordinary and extremely dangerous-the knowledge seemed to be chasing him, and he could not resist it.
For instance, the moment he thought about lighting a fire because it was cold, "Incendio" popped into his head. Or if he thought about making the door handle in his room a little bigger, "Engorgio" would surface.
He seemed to know every spell a Hogwarts graduate was expected to master by heart. Casting those spells was now as easy as breathing-
But just as people could not live without breathing, Brian desperately craved something he could use to let loose and test all sorts of magic. That craving had become impossible to suppress, as the evidence clearly showed-
Five minutes earlier, he had casually repaired the drum in his sack with the Mending Charm. Before he could even feel pleased, however, the idea of destroying it with "Diffindo" and repairing it again had popped into his head. That drum had been his faithful companion for years!
The terrifying thought battered Brian's mind, bringing him a little closer to his senses.
Fortunately, rather than wreaking havoc in his room, he had thought of the training dummies in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor Flitwick had mentioned them over afternoon tea-"Perfect targets for spells, and the best practice partners!"
Back in the present, Brian stood outside the locked Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. On discovering that the door was locked, he happily drew his wand, aimed it at the lock, and said, "Alohomora!"
The door clicked open. Brian hurried into the classroom and turned back.
"Colloportus!"
The door clicked again, indicating that it had firmly locked itself.
At night, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was empty, pitch-black, and utterly lifeless. The strange skeletons of dark creatures gave off a sinister chill. Realizing that he needed light, Brian raised his wand again.
"Lumos!"
With the help of the brilliant light, Brian quickly located the candle holders used for everyday lighting in the now brightly illuminated classroom. Ah, candles. Yes, fire. This time, he needed fire.
"Incendio!"
Little balls of flame appeared out of thin air and merrily lit every candle in the room, then vanished with a soft hiss.
Brian did not pause for a moment. He had already spotted his target, so he immediately extended his wand and used "Accio" to summon one of the classroom's dummies in front of him, then casually used the Color Change Charm to turn it his favorite shade of green.
Just as he was about to try "Diffindo," the pungent garlic odor hanging in the air launched an impatient assault on his nose.
The choking smell brought him a little further back to his senses. Brian naturally suspected that an entire sack of spoiled garlic had been left in some corner of the classroom. Faced with such a situation, he naturally had to solve it with household magic. He raised his wand.
"Scourgify!"
His wand erupted in a dazzling glow like firefly light, sweeping indiscriminately through the entire classroom. To his surprise, however, the spell did not work very well. He sniffed a few times and found that the garlic smell had only faded by the tiniest degree.
Brian had no choice but to use the Locomotion Charm to draw back the classroom curtains and open the windows. After all, moving air was the best way to clear an unpleasant smell, and that remained true even in the magical world.
He turned back, aimed his wand at the training dummy, smiled faintly, and raised his wand once more.
"Arresto Momentum!"
"Diffindo!"
As Brian called out his spells, his wand erupted with one burst of magical light after another.
Multicolored spells charged at the training dummy in relentless succession, with barely a pause between Brian's incantations. Eventually, his words dwindled to a stream of muttering, and at times his hand moved faster than he could speak.
The dummy was tossed into the air, slammed heavily into the floor, slowed to a crawl, and coated in frost in turn.
Bang!
Clang!
Hiss!
Crack!
After enduring who knew how many spells, the dummy finally buckled under the strain, its head lolling crookedly to one side.
Brian promptly restored it with "Reparo" and maintained his rhythm, venting the powerful urge to practice that still pursued him and compelled him to use magic. With every spell he cast, his body felt a little lighter.
By the third time Brian restored the dummy with "Reparo," his emotions had finally settled enough for him to think rationally. The knowledge was no longer pursuing him quite so closely-or rather, he could now withstand the urge to cast spells.
Only then did Brian notice that someone had appeared on the staircase leading up from the classroom-
He looked quite young, but his face was pale, as though he were a little anemic, and his whole manner was timid and shrinking. A purple turban was wrapped around his head. It was considerably larger than an ordinary one and covered the entire back of his head. Even in the wizarding world, this was an odd way to dress.
Brian had lost count of how often he had felt a little resentful of his overly keen sense of smell. The garlic odor in the classroom, which had nearly dispersed, seemed to have grown much stronger again-and its source was the back of Professor Quirrell's head. What on earth was in there?
Brian was curious, but no polite person would ask someone such a question on their first meeting, and he was no exception.
"Hello, Professor Quirrell. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Chet Brian."
Brian cleared his throat and said, feeling a little guilty,
"I don't know how much you saw. Um... anyway, I can explain. I only learned magic recently, so I had a little trouble controlling my urge to try it out. So... sorry for intruding."
That was what he said, and it was indeed the truth, but Brian had to admit one thing: what he had just been doing must have looked somewhat... well... utterly insane to anyone watching.
Quirrell cautiously descended the staircase one step at a time and slowly approached Brian, as though he were drawing near some vicious beast. He stammered,
"I-I quite understand. Theory-is only theory. Practice is-essential. You-know-me? Oh-oh, I remember-you're-you're-the new-librarian."
"That's right. That's me." Brian quietly edged a little closer to the window, doing his utmost to stay calm. The closer Professor Quirrell came, the stronger the garlic smell became-with every step, its intensity almost doubled!
His nose was joining forces with his brain to protest-
Leave this place at once, or we're going on strike!
Why wasn't there a single spell for freshening the air among all the magic I suddenly learned?
Facing Professor Quirrell, Brian felt a trace of helplessness for the first time in a long while.
He was certain that if Quirrell had reached him while he was still out of his mind, he would have snapped back to his senses immediately.
What surprised him, however, was how readily Quirrell seemed to accept his explanation. Did wizards consider such a frenzied barrage of spells perfectly normal?
"You-you said you-only just learned-magic?"
After confirming Brian's identity, Professor Quirrell seemed less frightened. He gave a stuttering laugh and said,
"How-how-amusing! Your spells-were all-very-very textbook! There's almost-nothing-to fault."
"Oh, thank you." Brian cautiously drew a breath. "I'm glad to have the approval of a qualified professor. Have you had dinner? If not, why don't we go together?"
Well, he did not want to change the subject so abruptly either, but if he did not leave soon, he really would faint. He hoped Professor Quirrell had already eaten. If not, he could only earnestly hope that the aroma of the food in the Great Hall would overpower that indescribable garlic stench.
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