Professor Quirrell's Defence Against the Dark Arts class had originally been the lesson most first-years looked forward to.
Even Harry, who had only entered the wizarding world a month ago, carried all sorts of unrealistic expectations thanks to Ron's endless descriptions.
Breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Fred and George said this class teaches real combat," Ron repeated for the fifth time in ten minutes, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Like fighting Dark Wizards and stuff."
"We're obviously not learning combat in our very first lesson."
Hermione sat opposite the boys with her textbook already closed beside her breakfast plate.
"We'll start with theory first. Dark creatures, defensive principles, basic countermeasures—"
"Yes, Professor Granger," Ron interrupted dramatically. "As if you've already attended the class yourself."
Hermione froze for a second.
Then, without another word, she stood up and walked away from the table stiffly.
"Honestly, she lectures too much," Ron muttered while stabbing a sausage aggressively.
Harry hesitated.
"I dunno… maybe you were a bit harsh."
"Ron," Ethan said calmly while finishing the last spoonful of porridge, "she's actually right."
He adjusted his schoolbag and glanced toward the empty professors' table.
"And don't forget our teacher is Professor Quirrell. The man struggles to say two complete sentences without buffering. I sincerely doubt the quality of his lessons."
Unfortunately, Ethan turned out to be completely correct.
Quirrell's classroom was a disaster.
The entire room reeked of garlic so strongly it felt physically aggressive.
Some students whispered that Quirrell used garlic to ward off vampires he had encountered during his travels in Romania.
Ethan knew the truth.
The garlic merely concealed the faint stench of decay spreading from Quirrell's body.
After all, Voldemort's possession had already begun rotting him from the inside, much like the dead animals Voldemort used while hiding in Albanian forests.
The first five minutes of class remained mostly normal.
Quirrell simply read directly from the textbook while trembling nervously beside the blackboard.
Then Seamus made the fatal mistake of asking how to deal with Inferi.
Quirrell immediately panicked.
His face turned bright red.
He stammered incoherently about weather patterns in Eastern Europe before accidentally knocking over his own stack of notes.
The entire class descended into awkward silence.
Throughout the lesson, Ethan also noticed Quirrell glancing toward him repeatedly.
Yesterday's "gift" had clearly been intentional.
Quirrell wanted Ethan to approach him again voluntarily.
Unfortunately, Ethan had no intention of deepening contact this quickly.
Yesterday's interaction had merely been a test.
If Voldemort truly wanted recruitment next time, Quirrell would almost certainly attempt Legilimency to evaluate Ethan's loyalty.
And Ethan honestly had no idea whether a half-Dementor counted as mentally resistant to mind-reading magic.
He would need to experiment personally later.
Or at minimum learn Occlumency first.
Fortunately, Quirrell in his current state probably wasn't especially powerful.
Otherwise, in the original story, he could have simply ripped the truth from Harry's mind in front of the Mirror of Erised.
"Ethan… you were right…"
After class, Ron looked spiritually shattered.
"I've never had a worse lesson."
Harry nodded miserably.
"That was horrible."
Unfortunately for Harry, he was still celebrating too early.
For Gryffindors, true despair came in two forms:
Snape's Potions.
And Professor Binns' History of Magic.
Compared to those nightmares, Quirrell merely qualified as embarrassing.
Thankfully, their afternoon Charms lesson restored everyone's faith in education.
Professor Flitwick had to stand atop several stacked books just to see over the podium, but his teaching ability surpassed his height by several hundred times.
Even dry magical theory became entertaining when accompanied by Flitwick's dramatic storytelling and endless jokes.
After dinner, Quirrell surprisingly did not seek Ethan out again.
That alone made Ethan even more suspicious.
Still, instead of returning directly to Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Ron, Ethan headed toward the library alone.
He needed books about Occlumency.
"Occlumency?"
Madam Pince adjusted her spectacles suspiciously while staring down at him.
A first-year student requesting advanced mental defence magic after only two days at Hogwarts looked deeply questionable.
"Is it restricted?"
Ethan immediately activated his strongest weapon:
Pitiful little orphan expression.
Unfortunately, Madam Pince possessed complete immunity.
"It's not restricted," she said flatly. "Most students simply never look for it."
Several minutes later, she slammed a thick peeling book onto the desk.
The Power of Sorrow.
"Maximum borrowing period: one week."
Madam Pince narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"Please take proper care of it."
The borrowing slip beneath the book contained a handwritten warning:
If you scratch, tear, fold, stain, damage, throw, drop, or otherwise abuse this book in any way whatsoever, I will personally ensure consequences beyond your imagination.
Even the ink itself looked angry.
Only then did Ethan realise why he had failed to locate the book earlier.
Who would guess that a text titled The Power of Sorrow was secretly about Occlumency?
The book sat inside the Magical Theory section rather than Spellcraft.
Most students avoided that area entirely because it consisted mainly of horrifying mathematical diagrams capable of causing psychological trauma.
The library closed at eight.
Rather than studying there, Ethan borrowed the book and returned to Gryffindor Tower.
If Quirrell saw him carrying a book about Occlumency, it might interfere with Ethan's future plans.
"Ethan, are you insane?"
Ron stared at the enormous book in horror after Ethan returned to the common room.
"It's only the second day of school!"
"I can't bring a game console to Hogwarts," Ethan replied helplessly. "Reading is basically my only entertainment option."
"You could play wizard chess with us twenty-four hours a day," Ron suggested seriously. "Or go watch Fred and George."
He pointed toward the crowd gathered near the fireplace.
The Weasley twins each held scissors while attempting to trim a pink Puffskein that had somehow wandered into Gryffindor Tower.
The fluffy creature resembled a giant pink marshmallow with eyes.
Many witches adored Puffskeins.
Mostly because they didn't know Puffskeins enjoyed eating human bogies.
Unfortunately, the Puffskein currently appeared far more interested in assaulting Fred and George's faces.
It launched itself repeatedly toward their heads like a furry parasite while nearby students screamed with laughter.
"Absolutely not."
Ethan felt goosebumps instantly.
Having a moving furball crawl across his face sounded horrifying.
Instead, he selected a quiet corner beside the fire and opened The Power of Sorrow carefully.
Snape's original Occlumency lessons for Harry had basically consisted of:
"Clear your mind."
Surely the magic involved more than that.
There had to be actual spells involved somewhere.
....
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