Chapter 103: Dumbledore's Lessons
At 3:45 PM, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was buzzing with noise, like a lively dance hall.
"Friendship is the most precious thing in a person's life. Everyone, please remember how you feel right now—don't let it fade away," Professor Dumbledore said, dabbing his eyes as he delivered one of his trademark philosophical aphorisms. Then he continued, "Alright, alright. There's no need to be anxious—I've already been informed by Mr. Goldstein."
"Harry, you were only trying to help your classmates. I believe Professor Quirrell won't blame you when he wakes up. Don't worry, you won't lose any House points for this," Dumbledore assured him, clearly believing Quirrell's irritation wasn't worth punishing.
"Sir, what are you doing here?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Study time should not be wasted. I'm here to teach you, of course."
"Why, won't you invite me in? I'm old, and I can't stand for long," Dumbledore said with a smile.
"Professor Dumbledore, please come in!"
"Merlin's beard!"
"Awesome!"
Everyone quickly welcomed Dumbledore into the classroom, their faces filled with awe and excitement.
Alexander Smith discreetly wiped the cold sweat from his palms. Thankfully, he had retreated from Quirrell in time to reinforce the magic barrier on the turban. If Dumbledore had noticed anything, Alexander's peaceful days of watching events unfold from the sidelines would've come to an end.
After all, he considered himself just a daily player at Hogwarts—others could take the spotlight.
It appeared that Dumbledore was choosing to subtly monitor Voldemort's movements, intervening only when necessary. Poor Voldemort—two of the three most powerful wizards in the world were now watching him from Hogwarts.
Soon, after Anthony Goldstein and the other students returned, Dumbledore began his impromptu lesson.
Without any notes or lesson plans, he fluidly taught the class Professor Quirrell had intended to give, weaving in explanations, warnings, and real-life examples without missing a beat. He covered everything the first years were meant to learn this term—starting with the basics and gradually diving deeper.
As the saying goes: "You may not know the quality of something until you compare it."
After experiencing Dumbledore's teaching, the students couldn't help but be moved.
"Professor Dumbledore, can Professor Quirrell still teach? Maybe he should just take the year off and let you handle Defense Against the Dark Arts," said the Ravenclaw version of Ron—just a bit too candid.
"Yeah, totally."
"We're honestly worried about Professor Quirrell's health."
"Please, Professor Dumbledore, I don't want to be smoked again!" Padma Patil chimed in. While Ravenclaw hadn't been subjected to Quirrell's bizarre incense-burning methods as long as the other Houses, she had spoken with her twin sister Parvati and realized how lucky they were to have Harry intervene.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Mr. Weasley, everyone—I'm not trying to boast, but between school duties and the broader needs of the wizarding world, my time is rather limited."
"So I'm afraid… this will probably be the only Defense Against the Dark Arts class I'll teach this school year."
"As for the smell everyone's concerned about, I'll speak with Professor Quirrell after class."
"Any questions?" Dumbledore asked warmly.
"What happened with Harry's spell?" Hermione raised her hand.
"Go on, Harry, give it another try," said Dumbledore, his light blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Alright, Professor." Harry nodded and stood up. He raised his wand and pointed it toward the sky. "Periculum!"
A brilliant red spark erupted from the wand—not just the usual glow, but a dazzling flare filled with a strange sense of holiness.
"Incredible… simply incredible," Dumbledore murmured.
"On the shores of magic, we are but children collecting shells," he mused.
"Ms. Granger, I'm afraid I don't have a full explanation. I can only say that this version of Periculum seems particularly effective at dispelling minor curses and odors."
"It's largely due to Harry's unique magical traits. Just like Mr. Finnigan from Gryffindor is especially prone to explosive magic..."
"The same goes for your father, Mr. Smith, doesn't it?" Dumbledore added, turning to Alexander.
"Huh? That handsome guy is from Ravenclaw?"
"Wait, he's in our class? Why didn't I notice before?!"
"He's so good-looking!"
Dumbledore's casual mention of Alexander's father had the unintended effect of drawing all eyes to him. The Ravenclaw girls suddenly seemed intoxicated with admiration. If Dumbledore weren't present, Alexander might have been swarmed.
"Professor, it's all about magical nature. Every wizard has a unique affinity. My father, George—" (Ron's confused expression was priceless) "—was particularly good at explosive spells, while Harry excels at protective magic," Alexander explained, though he silently cursed Dumbledore for drawing attention to him.
It was just like the Headmaster to take an interest in Peverell descendants.
He had personally recruited Tom Riddle from the orphanage—surely not without a reason.
Fun fact: Tom Riddle's full name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and Harry's is Harry James Potter.
No wonder Snape had such a hard time with him. It might've been easier if Harry had been named Harry Lily Potter.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw—for Harry's excellent spellwork and Alexander's insight. This kind of knowledge isn't found in textbooks," Dumbledore declared.
"Alright, class. It's 5:30. That's all for today."
As soon as the class ended, the hallway outside was filled with students from other years who hadn't had afternoon classes.
"Harry, I heard you knocked out Quirrell again," said one of the Weasley twins.
"How cool is that? Getting taught by Dumbledore himself. He hasn't done that in decades," added the other twin.
"So… if Quirrell faints again, then?" they said in unison, smirking at each other.
Alexander and the others fell silent for a moment—mourning, perhaps, for Quirrell's fate. After this, the school year would be anything but smooth for the man. But it didn't matter. He wouldn't get another year anyway—Voldemort's curse ensured that.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a cursed position. Even if someone survived it, they wouldn't be able to continue teaching the following term.
The curse was tied to the authority Voldemort had seized from the Chamber of Secrets during his time in Slytherin. He used it out of spite when denied the position—marking it so no professor could last long.
Even Voldemort couldn't remove the curse now. Otherwise, Quirrell wouldn't have ended up in such a pitiful state.
If any previous professor dared return to teach the subject, their life would be at risk.
Which was exactly why Dumbledore had never rehired a former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 30+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics