"Lucien, why are you sitting all the way in the back?"
Draco dropped into the seat beside him with obvious confusion.
"Obviously because Professor Quirrell only knows how to read directly from the textbook," another Slytherin complained nearby. "And he can barely read properly at that. Who would actually want to listen to him?"
A few students snickered immediately.
"I seriously don't understand what Dumbledore was thinking," another student muttered. "Why hire someone that useless as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Lucien listened quietly to the conversations around him without joining in.
Instead, he calmly opened a book and raised it slightly in front of his face while sitting in the furthest corner of the classroom.
Unlike the others, he knew perfectly well that Quirrell was far from harmless.
A Ravenclaw graduate with a dangerous curiosity toward dark magic.
A wizard brave enough to travel alone into dark forests searching for forbidden knowledge.
If Quirrell were truly incompetent, Voldemort would never have selected him as a host.
Everything about Quirrell's cowardly image was nothing more than camouflage.
And right now, that camouflage was carrying the most dangerous Dark wizard in history on the back of its head.
Without Lucien taking the front seats this time, the classroom atmosphere became even more exaggerated than usual. The first several rows sat completely empty like abandoned seats in a university lecture hall.
Every student squeezed toward the back as much as possible.
Those who arrived late had no choice but to sit nearer the middle while grumbling unhappily.
Then the strong smell of garlic drifted into the room.
Instantly, coughing spread through the classroom.
Quirrell shuffled nervously toward the podium before forcing out an awkward laugh.
"C-class, please t-take out… our textbook. The one called Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection."
His stutter alone wasted several seconds.
"T-turn to page one. T-today we will discuss Puffskeins."
Even speaking a single sentence seemed difficult for him.
The rest of the lecture became even more unbearable.
Puffskeins were harmless magical creatures classified as XX by the Ministry of Magic. Many wizarding families even kept them as pets.
Yet somehow Quirrell managed to explain such simple material in the most incomprehensible way possible.
Not only was he reading directly from the textbook, he was doing it so badly that nobody could even follow which section he was reading from.
Lucien finally understood why students hated his class so much.
It wasn't merely boring.
It was physically painful.
Halfway through the lesson, Quirrell tried asking several questions. Not a single student paid attention to him.
An embarrassed expression briefly appeared on his face.
Then a hoarse voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.
"Give me your body."
An irresistible force swept through Quirrell instantly.
His eyes changed.
The timid posture vanished completely.
Instead of standing stiffly behind the podium reading from the textbook, Quirrell suddenly began walking casually among the students with strange confidence.
Lucien's pupils shrank slightly.
A cold chill crawled down his spine.
He immediately lowered his head further behind the book in his hands, trying not to attract attention.
At that moment, Quirrell snapped the textbook shut.
Click.
The sound wasn't loud, but the entire classroom instantly fell silent.
"If everyone finds reading textbooks too boring," Voldemort said calmly through Quirrell's mouth, "perhaps we should try another method of learning."
He slowly raised his wand.
With a flick of magic, every textbook in the classroom slammed shut simultaneously before flying neatly to the side of the room.
Gasps erupted everywhere.
Voldemort's lips curled upward slightly in satisfaction.
For years, he had desired the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.
And for years, Dumbledore had rejected him repeatedly.
After the Wizarding War began, he had assumed he would never stand inside a Hogwarts classroom again.
Yet now, through Quirrell, he finally had the opportunity.
"Put away your textbooks," Voldemort said smoothly. "Take out your wands instead."
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Unlike Quirrell's miserable reading, Voldemort moved through the classroom like a speaker commanding an audience.
"To study Defence Against the Dark Arts properly," he continued, "you must first understand one thing."
He stopped walking and slowly scanned the classroom.
"What exactly is Dark Magic?"
Several students immediately raised their hands after being drawn in by his earlier display of magic.
Voldemort chuckled softly.
"In my classroom, there's no need to raise your hands. Speak freely."
"Dark magic is magic that hurts people!"
"Magic without counter-curses!"
"Dark magic is the magic Dark wizards use!"
Answers came one after another.
Most first-year students had only vague ideas about the topic, so their responses were based entirely on imagination.
After hearing several answers, Voldemort suddenly turned toward the very back row.
"Mr Grindelwald."
Lucien's eyes narrowed immediately.
"What are your thoughts?"
He was just about to give a vague answer and avoid attention when Voldemort spoke again.
"With Mr Grindelwald's impressive knowledge, I'm sure he can provide us with a perfect explanation."
A faint smile appeared on Quirrell's face.
"Surely you wouldn't refuse an opportunity to earn honour for Slytherin House?"
Lucien cursed inwardly.
Old monster.
A simple provocation had instantly pushed him into the spotlight.
Lucien had already demonstrated extensive knowledge several times in previous classes. If he gave a careless answer now, the Slytherins would immediately think he was deliberately holding back and disrespecting the honour of the house.
That would seriously damage the image he had built.
Slowly, Lucien stood.
"The definition of dark magic," he said after a brief pause, "depends primarily on whether the caster possesses strong malicious intent."
He casually lifted his wand toward the podium.
"Aguamenti."
Several streams of clear water burst forward and splashed directly across the floor near Quirrell's feet.
"Most people would never consider the Water-Making Charm to be dark magic."
Lucien's voice remained calm and steady.
"But if the water continues expanding until it floods an enclosed room, it can still drown someone to death."
The classroom gradually quieted.
"So in my opinion," Lucien continued, "any magic cast with sufficient malice can become dark magic."
A strange light flashed through Voldemort's eyes.
"An excellent answer."
Even he hadn't reached that understanding until his third year at Hogwarts.
Originally, he had expected Lucien to simply combine textbook definitions with earlier student answers.
Instead, the boy had given an answer far beyond his age.
"Please sit down, Mr Grindelwald."
"Slytherin earns five points."
With a casual wave of Quirrell's sleeve, the water stains on the floor vanished completely.
The silent, wandless spellcasting immediately triggered another wave of excited whispers among the students.
"As Mr Grindelwald correctly stated," Voldemort continued, "dark magic is not limited to curses without counters or magic that directly harms others."
He slowly paced across the classroom again.
"Any spell can become lethal when driven by sufficient malice."
Then his tone suddenly turned colder.
"However, most wizards still divide dark magic into several major categories."
His eyes returned to Lucien once more.
"Mr Grindelwald?"
"There are generally three classifications," Lucien answered calmly. "Curses, hexes and jinxes. Of the three, jinxes are considered the mildest while curses are the most dangerous."
"Very good."
Voldemort nodded slightly.
"But there is one category you failed to mention."
The temperature inside the classroom suddenly seemed to drop.
"The Unforgivable Curses."
Then Quirrell slowly turned toward Harry Potter.
"Mr Potter."
His voice became unusually sharp.
"Tell me… which spells are known as the Unforgivable Curses?"
....
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