'It hurt a little!'
This was Harry's first reaction as the headband clamped down. Immediately after, he found that everything in front of him became ethereal and hazy, as if a thick silver mist had suddenly enveloped his surroundings.
Just as he instinctively reached out to grasp it, the mist disappeared. With it, the Hogwarts classroom vanished... and so did Ron, who had just been sitting beside him.
The surroundings turned into an unfamiliar classroom, a somewhat gloomy, stone-walled place.
"Today is our first Dark Arts class." As Harry was dazed, a middle-aged man wrapped in a black robe walked into the room.
Only then did Harry notice that there were strangers sitting around him. They were uniformly dressed in thick blood-red robes, looking like older students.
'Where is this?'
Harry, utterly confused, wanted to ask, but then he heard the middle-aged man speak.
"As Durmstrang students, there are three things I want to say in my class."
'Durmstrang? Where is this?' Harry's confusion did not stop the middle-aged man; the memory continued to play out.
"First: Dark Arts are not inherently evil magic; what matters is the person who uses them!"
"Second: The best way to counter the Dark Arts is not to avoid them, but to learn the Dark Arts as well!"
"Third..." He suddenly paused. Harry suddenly found his gaze fixed on someone sitting quietly in the back row.
It was a small person with striking silver hair, but their face was completely indistinct, blurred out by the memory.
"..."
"Forget it," the man said with a frown. "Let's begin today's lesson."
"First, before learning the Dark Arts, we need to fully understand what the Dark Arts are."
'So this is... a Dark Arts class in a place called Durmstrang?'
Harry shook his head slightly in surprise. 'How did Professor Hamilton manage this? Did she create this with magic?'
"Does anyone know?"
Hearing the Dark Arts Professor's question, Harry instinctively looked behind him. Unfortunately, it wasn't Hermione sitting there, but a young man who looked rather cold and aloof.
He was staring at the middle-aged man, seemingly knowing the exact answer.
"Mr. Muller, do you know?"
The young man named Muller slowly stood up. "The Dark Arts are spells intended to harm others. They are highly dangerous to people, and require deep hostility and pure malice towards the target when cast."
"A very good answer, Mr. Muller," the middle-aged man nodded in satisfaction.
But instead of the polite applause one would hear at Hogwarts, there was a chorus of discontented, mocking smacking sounds from the other students.
Harry looked at the other students around him and found that they all looked deeply displeased.
'This student named Muller doesn't seem to be very well-liked, does he?'
Clap... clap...
Only a solitary, hesitant clap came from the back row. Harry instinctively turned his head and saw it was the small person with silver hair.
As he was trying to figure out who it was, the Dark Arts Professor cleared his throat. "Quiet, everyone."
"Since everyone has understood the theoretical knowledge of the Dark Arts, let me show you what practical Dark Arts are." He raised his wand and pointed it at the ceiling.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Buzz!
A sickly green light shot straight across the room. Harry fell backward onto the floor, clutching his forehead.
He pursed his lips and stared in shock at the middle-aged man as an ear-splitting woman's scream echoed loudly in his own ears.
Fortunately, the scream disappeared the next second, followed by the Durmstrang students' exclamations.
It wasn't disgust or fear... Harry felt it was pure adoration.
"This is the Killing Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic," the middle-aged man said slowly, looking at the wizards below. "And it is also the most dangerous spell."
"It is strictly forbidden to use on people." He suddenly curled his lips into a slightly sarcastic, fanatic smile. "Believe me, this will change in a few years."
"Because... the Lord will..."
This part of the memory warped, as if the audio had suddenly disappeared; Harry only heard intermittent, static-filled words.
'It seems… someone edited this part… Was it Professor Hamilton?'
Harry shook his head in a daze, his scar prickling. He felt a little dizzy.
'Is it because of the Killing Curse?'
While he was confused, the middle-aged man continued to speak.
Unlike the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts classes—where Quirrell's rote lectures still managed to teach Harry some simple counter-curses—this was completely different.
As for Professor Hamilton's class... Harry felt it would be better renamed simply "Dark Arts," because the entire lesson's content focused purely on dark magic.
Of course, whether Professor Hamilton did it on purpose or not, many parts about how to physically cast such spells were handled very vaguely.
Most of the time, Harry couldn't see the wand gestures or hear the incantations clearly.
Therefore, it was more like a theoretical Dark Arts class, focusing strictly on identifying the specific effects and mechanics of the dark spells.
Harry didn't expect there to be so many Dark Arts. In just this one lesson, the middle-aged Professor had already demonstrated more than a dozen curses. Some of them Quirrell had briefly mentioned, but most were entirely unfamiliar and terrifying.
Moreover, the scene created by Professor Hamilton was incredibly real, as if he was truly living it.
Just as Harry was wishing he could have seen the wand movements more clearly, the silver mist slowly returned and swallowed the classroom.
"Phew..."
Then, he heard the sound of long exhales from all around him. That was Ron. He looked to his side; his red-haired friend was sitting there, pale and breathing heavily.
'Is it over?'
"Harry, Ron!" Just as he was about to speak, he heard Hermione's voice from behind him.
"Did you see it?"
"See what?" Harry was stunned for a moment, while Ron simply frowned, looking ill, and said nothing.
"Durmstrang... a real illusion... and the Dark Arts..." Hermione seemed to have a lot to say, her eyes wide with academic shock.
Not just her, the other students in the room also seemed to be discussing noisily. It looked like the immersive lecture had completely astonished them all.
Clatter.
As Harry was thinking, the metal headband on his head slowly floated up and returned to rest perfectly on the table.
It was Professor Hamilton. He quickly turned his head to look at the masked Professor, who was still standing silently on the second-floor balcony.
"..."
Silence, a somewhat chilling, heavy silence, gradually quieted all the students in the room. They thought of the Dark Arts they had just experienced... or perhaps the terrifying flash of the Killing Curse.
But no matter what it was, their expressions towards Professor Hamilton were now tinged with genuine fear.
"..."
Professor Hamilton still said absolutely nothing. With a gentle flick of her ebony wand, a piece of parchment appeared directly on everyone's desk.
A few lines of elegant text were written on it.
The headband can be reused. If you want to review the lesson content, you can put on the headband yourself. Each person only has one headband; be sure to protect it well. If you have any questions you don't understand, you can write to me. DO NOT COME TO MY OFFICE TO FIND ME!
The last line of large, bold red text made Harry raise an eyebrow.
Bang!
The balcony door snapped closed, and Professor Hamilton vanished into her office.
"This is definitely not ordinary magic." As soon as the door closed, Hermione immediately said, "This is not an ordinary magic item either!"
"Is that so?" Harry thought for a moment and asked, "Then do you know what Durmstrang is?"
"Durmstrang Institute is a magic school similar to Hogwarts, located somewhere in Northern Europe." Hermione thought for a moment and whispered, "However, it is famous for producing dark wizards."
"Why would Professor Hamilton know the exact content of Durmstrang's classes?" Harry asked thoughtfully. "Were those scenes just now... some kind of memory?"
"Very likely," Hermione nodded seriously. "Such a realistic, immersive scene... it definitely wouldn't be a simple illusion charm... it must be an extracted memory."
As she spoke, she suddenly realized something and looked over. "What's wrong, Ron?"
Harry also just noticed that Ron had been sitting there, deathly pale and completely silent.
"I... I was hit by the Killing Curse just now."
"Ah?!" Harry and Hermione looked at him in pure shock.
"What do you mean, Ron?" Harry quickly said, "That spell was aimed at the ceiling..."
"I walked around... I was a little too close at the time," Ron whispered, shivering. "I found out... we were all incorporeal, so..."
"So you stood directly next to the Dark Arts Professor?!" Hermione looked at Ron's ashen face with an expression of disbelief. "You're truly crazy!"
"We... we should take him to Madam Pomfrey first." Harry pursed his lips and said, "That headband..."
"Be careful when wearing it..."
He said, glancing up at the tightly closed office door on the second floor.
'Professor Hamilton really has many dangerous secrets.'
'Professor Hamilton has no secrets at all! My biggest secret is merely a slight connection to Lord Grindelwald!'
Inside the office, Lyla was currently clutching her head, leaning heavily against the closed door. She was completely speechless for a long time, her pale face covered in nervous sweat, and her pointed ears perked high with absolute shame.
'So shameful! So terrifying!'
'I want to die! I want to escape from here...'
This was Lyla's honest assessment of her first class. Just standing there on the balcony, she felt like she was about to pass out from stage fright. Fortunately, she could tightly grip the wooden railing.
But that paper she handed out afterwards...
'What kind of Professor communicates with students like that?! I even told them to write letters instead of speaking... The students must be terribly disappointed!'
Lyla trembled, burying her face in her hands, and began to constantly wonder why she had ever come here.
Ultimately, all her fear and embarrassment transformed into one single, desperate thought:
'Lord Grindelwald, please take me away!'