Sitting in the front row, Richie endured the overpowering stench of garlic, feeling a bit weirded out.
A stutter and garlic...
Richie pinched his nose and started digging through his memories. If he recalled correctly from the bedtime stories he read in his past life, wasn't Professor Quirrell the final boss of the first book?
Something about a mirror... something about a stone...
Richie rubbed his hair in frustration. The downside of reading without actually paying attention was hitting him hard right now. Honestly, if his son hadn't thrown a fit about eating garlic after hearing that story, Richie wouldn't even remember this plot point.
At the time, he had just treated his kid's complaints as a joke to tell the rest of the family. There was a saying back home: Eating noodles without garlic means you're missing half the flavor. For a family that ate noodles for breakfast every day, nobody ever turned down a side of raw garlic.
Sure enough, his kid couldn't even hold out for a single day. By the very next morning, the boy had completely forgotten his own boycott.
Of course, there was another good saying: The dose makes the poison. Complaining about the smell without factoring in the sheer volume was just being unreasonable!
Staring at Professor Quirrell on the podium, Richie silently pulled out a tissue, rolled it up, and stuffed it up his nose.
"Hey, Richie, could I get one of those...?"
Seeing Harry's agonized expression, Richie silently nodded and handed him a tissue.
"Richie, me too..."
"Richie..."
Soon enough, half the first-years in the classroom were sporting long, tissue-stuffed noses.
With his nose securely plugged, Richie racked his brain again but couldn't recall any other plot details. He just let out a defeated sigh. His memories of his past life were getting blurrier by the day. He really needed to find time to write down whatever fragmented details of Harry Potter he had left, before he stumbled into a disaster he couldn't dodge.
"Professor!"
Right then, a student raised their hand and asked, "So, is it all true? Did you really run into vampires in the valley?"
Professor Quirrell nodded, his mouth twitching slightly. "T-t-that is a... t-t-thrilling tale. I-I will share it with you... s-shortly."
He glanced around the room, his eyes casually drifting over to Harry Potter. Seeing the boy looking ridiculous with his nose stuffed with tissues, Quirrell paused for a fraction of a second, but he quickly looked away before Harry noticed.
"N-n-now, p-p-please open your books, and let us read the... t-t-table of contents together."
Read the table of contents?
The first-years were completely baffled. They'd been taking classes for two days now, and no professor had ever asked them to read a table of contents out loud. What was even the point of that?
Quirrell pulled out a black wooden rod and started stirring his cauldron. Seeing the students' confused expressions, he kept stirring and forced a strained smile. "Y-y-yes. P-p-please begin."
Even though they didn't get it, the kids obediently complied. A messy, chaotic chorus of reading echoed through the classroom.
Seeing the absurdity of it, Richie just casually moved his mouth, blatantly lip-syncing and slacking off.
Up on the podium, Professor Quirrell kept his head bowed, hiding his twitching face and the faint, unsettling squirming beneath his turban. At that moment, a raspy, hissing voice echoed in his ear—a voice only he could hear.
"Find a way... to test... Harry Potter..." "Y-y-yes. I-I understand," Quirrell murmured back, his voice barely a mosquito-like whisper.
Soon, the reading session ended. Quirrell instructed everyone to turn to Chapter Three, the section introducing vampires.
"B-b-before class, s-someone asked me about... v-vampires..." Quirrell stuttered. "S-s-so, before I t-tell my story... we m-m-must understand... what a v-vampire i-is."
To everyone's shock, Quirrell simply held up the textbook and started stuttering his way through the paragraphs, reading straight off the page.
Merlin, is he seriously... The students looked down at their books in disbelief, realizing he was literally just reading the text word-for-word. They were stunned.
"Oh my god, Professor Quirrell is exactly like Professor Binns!"
"This is actually worse than Binns."
"Maybe we can just start doing our own thing?"
The kids started getting restless. Meanwhile, sitting next to Richie, Harry was already nodding off.
While reading, Quirrell noticed Harry's head bobbing in sleep. A complicated expression crossed his face. Harry Potter's commitment to sleeping through class was incredibly steadfast.
If only... Feeling a sudden, sharp sting at the back of his head, Quirrell gritted his teeth but couldn't stop a stifled groan from escaping. A second later, he immediately feigned a strict tone.
"P-p-please be quiet. M-mind your d-discipline."
Having covered up his unnatural reaction, Quirrell went right back to mechanically reading the book. The first-years stayed quiet for a minute before the whispers broke out again.
When Quirrell finally finished reading the chapter, Richie flipped back to the beginning of Chapter Three and raised his hand. He asked about the actual magical theory behind using garlic and crosses to ward off vampires and treat their bites.
"O-o-oh... th-that is w-what the book says..." Quirrell smiled awkwardly at Richie. "S-s-since Mr. Harland... a-a-asked, I... I will t-tell you about my... s-summer... e-experience."
Richie: ? Hearing that, the classroom finally quieted down. The kids looked at him, filled with anticipation.
Seeing he had their attention, Quirrell began. "T-t-that was this... s-summer. I r-r-received a letter from a... f-famous scholar..."
As Quirrell stuttered his way through the tale, the young wizards let out periodic gasps of amazement. Richie, however, just frowned. Quirrell hadn't answered his question at all. He had completely deflected by telling a story instead.
And honestly, it was an incredibly generic adventure story—the kind of thing that would only impress a bunch of sheltered eleven-year-olds.
Was this professor actually a total fraud? Or maybe he just poured all his energy into being a villain? Thinking about it, Richie jotted his original question down in his notebook. He'd just have to find the answer himself later.
Soon, half the period was gone. Quirrell finished his story, leaving the kids eagerly chatting about it. He clapped his hands, pulling their attention back.
"S-s-so, for our n-next... p-practical exercise... w-we will t-t-try to cast... the W-Wand-Lighting Charm."
The Wand-Lighting Charm. According to Quirrell's story, it was the spell vampires feared the most. It was the spell that had bought him enough time to prepare his garlic and cross. Although, realistically, that amount of time should have been more than enough for him to just run away.
"I-I will d-d-demonstrate for... e-everyone first."
Quirrell pulled out his wand, gave his wrist a massive, exaggerated flick, and chanted: "L-L-Lumos!"
Under the watchful eyes of the first-years, the tip of Quirrell's wand emitted an incredibly faint, sputtering, and unstable light.
The pathetic display actually made a few kids laugh out loud.
"That wand movement was completely wrong, and his pronunciation was atrocious!" Hermione's bushy hair practically bristled with indignation. It physically hurt her to watch. She muttered under her breath, "This professor is an absolute disaster!"