Defense Against the Dark Arts was always the most highly anticipated class for first-years on the Hogwarts timetable. It was mysterious, dangerous, and steeped in heroic romance—after all, who wouldn't want to learn how to fight off Red Caps, hinkypunks, werewolves, or even the legendary Dark Lord?
Before class began, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years were already deep in excited discussion out in the corridor.
"My dad said when he was in school, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a retired Auror!" Brayden Cole from Hufflepuff puffed out his chest proudly. "His first lesson was the Disarming Charm, and he blasted a hinkypunk three meters away right on the spot!"
"So what?" Casen Moretti sneered dismissively. "My uncle studies dragons in Romania. He says true defense against the dark arts isn't about spells, it's about anticipation and instinct. He saved a whole village from a pack of ghouls all by himself."
"You're full of it!" Edgar Finch pushed up his glasses, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Ghouls aren't that easy to deal with. My gran says you can't even scatter them with a wand; you have to use powdered silver."
"I bet our professor is going to be incredibly cool!" another Hufflepuff girl said excitedly. "Maybe they even fought in the war against You-Know-Who!"
Julien walked quietly on the fringes of the group. Listening to their naive chatter felt like a block of ice pressing against his chest. He knew the truth. They weren't about to face a brave Auror or a legendary wizard; they were going to face a cowardly, insidious puppet possessed by the most evil Dark Lord in history.
He deliberately slowed his pace, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, even keeping his breathing perfectly even. He couldn't afford to draw any attention—especially not from whatever was hiding beneath that turban.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was located on the third floor, on the cooler side of the castle. As they pushed the door open, a suffocating, overpowering stench of garlic washed over them, making it almost impossible to breathe.
The curtains were drawn tight, leaving the room dimly lit. The walls were covered in bizarre amulets, and heavy braids of garlic hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft.
Behind the desk stood a thin man wearing a massive, ridiculous purple turban.
He was currently facing away from the door, mopping his forehead with a large handkerchief.
He didn't turn around when the students entered. It wasn't until most of them had filed in and taken their seats that he faced the blackboard and began to write.
Only when everyone was completely settled did he slowly turn to face the class.
The professor was as pale as parchment, his eyes darting nervously.
"W-welcome," he stuttered, his voice thin and trembling. "I am your D-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Q-Quirinus Quirrell."
Muffled whispers immediately broke out across the classroom.
"That's the professor?" Justin muttered from the front row, looking profoundly disappointed as he turned his head. "He looks like... he's about to pass out."
"This garlic smell is way too strong!" Casen wrinkled his nose, fanning the air with his hand.
Julien lowered his eyes, his expression completely blank.
He knew the garlic was just a clumsy cover Quirrell used to mask Voldemort's scent—and a physical manifestation of his own inner terror. Julien involuntarily shrank back a little, minimizing his presence as much as possible.
Professor Quirrell seemed to sense the students' doubts. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "I know... my appearance might be a bit... unusual. It is to ward off a vampire..."
"Does that really keep vampires away?" Edgar lowered his voice.
"Who knows?" Casen snickered.
Up at the front, Quirrell kept rambling. "...but please believe, my research into the Dark Arts goes very deep. I lived alone in the Black Forest of Albania for a year, tracking and documenting countless dark creatures... The dark magic there is... very... very powerful."
As he spoke, his gaze suddenly turned unnervingly dark for a split second, as if he were staring right through the classroom walls at some distant, terrifying place. Julien's heart lurched. Albania—the very place where Voldemort's wandering spirit had been exiled.
Perhaps those words hadn't been Quirrell's idea to say at all.
The lesson officially began. Professor Quirrell opened his textbook with trembling hands and stammered, "T-today, we will learn how to identify the m-most basic dark creatures—Red Caps."
His teaching was painfully dry, mostly just reading straight from the book. His sentences were jumbled, constantly interrupted by his own coughing fits. The students, who had come in full of anticipation, quickly lost interest. Some started secretly reading other books, while others fiddled idly with their wands.
Suddenly, Julien felt a gaze sweep over him. It wasn't from Professor Quirrell's nervous, rapidly blinking eyes. It came from behind the turban—a cold, viscous stare filled with intense scrutiny, slithering over him silently like a venomous snake.
He knew exactly what it was. It was Voldemort.
Julien's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't let it show. He simply lowered his head a fraction more, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
He had no desire to become a target. Dumbledore and Harry Potter could carry the weight of this world.
The rest of the lecture dragged on uneventfully. Quirrell's trembling voice droned on about the habits and weaknesses of Red Caps, punctuated by occasional coughing fits.
However, his eyes frequently drifted past the other students to land on Liriya.
"M-Miss Liriya," Professor Quirrell suddenly called out, a faint, almost imperceptible urgency bleeding into his voice. "I hear you come from the far North? The natural magic there is... quite unique?"
Liriya stood up, her long blonde hair catching a soft sheen in the dim light. She nodded, answering openly. "Yes, Professor. The magic of the North is deeply connected to the land, the forests, and the seasons."
"T-the land?" Professor Quirrell pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Fascinating. T-tell me, are there any ancient spells or ruins passed down in that land... ancient stone tablets, perhaps? I mean, might there be unusual, lost runes or... sources of power?"
The classroom fell silent. Julien's heart sank. A stone tablet? Was he talking about the dark, rune-covered item Liriya had brought to Hogwarts in her hide-wrapped bundle? He shot a covert glance at Liriya, his eyes flashing a warning, but she didn't notice.
Liriya seemed entirely unaware of the danger behind the question. She thought for a moment before answering earnestly. "There are indeed many ancient ruins in the North. Some stone tablets bear the writing of the First Men. But most of them were used for rituals or recording history; they don't hold any special power."
Her tone was sincere and straightforward. She clearly wasn't lying.
"I s-see..." Professor Quirrell muttered in disappointment, though he quickly forced himself to perk up. "V-very interesting. Your knowledge is quite... valuable. If you ever have questions about magic, feel free to come discuss them with me. I am very, very interested in these things."
When the bell finally rang, the students packed up their books with a collective sigh of relief. Professor Quirrell hurried out of the classroom as if ghosts were chasing him.
"He's really weird," a Hufflepuff girl whispered. "Stuttering aside, why did he keep staring at Liriya?"
Julien walked over to Liriya and kept his voice low. "Don't trust him."
Liriya turned to him, a hint of confusion in her ice-blue eyes. "What did you say?"
Julien hesitated for a second, but said it anyway. "Quirrell is a bit... strange. It's best to keep your distance."
"Why are you questioning a professor? He's interested in natural magic, what's wrong with that? Isn't Professor McGonagall the same?"
"There are different kinds of interest," Julien replied grimly. "I get the feeling his 'interest' is more about looking for something. Did you bring something with you to Hogwarts?"
"How did you know?!" Liriya stepped back in surprise. "I already gave it to Dum—No, what are you talking about? I didn't bring anything." As she spoke, the look she gave Julien grew slightly guarded; she had already handed the tablet straight to Dumbledore.