Chapter 18: Defense Against the Dark Arts

Michael's resentment persisted all the way into Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

On Tuesday, Ravenclaw shared the Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Slytherin.

At Hogwarts, classes were generally held with two houses together. Only during special occasions, such as the occurrence of unique astronomical phenomena, would all four houses attend a class together, like Astronomy. This was something Sheen had heard through Michael's constant rambling along the way.

According to him, Defense Against the Dark Arts was the most popular course at Hogwarts. This sent Anthony and Terry's anticipation for the class to its peak.

Walking behind them, Sheen shook his head. Defense Against the Dark Arts was indeed attractive, but the quality of teaching was worrying. For this vital subject, the first-year professor was a stutterer; the second-year professor was a fraud; the third and fourth-year professors were relatively normal; by the fifth year, it became a pink magical toad; the sixth year was Professor Snape, who got exactly what he wanted; and the seventh year was a Death Eater who only persecuted and never taught.

Looking at it this way, out of seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts, only three years allowed for actual proper learning. Therefore, Sheen decided to self-study. He clutched *Theory of Defensive Magic* in his hand—a fifth-year textbook he had borrowed in advance. He felt he would need it, and certainly not just because he could read it for free.

Once Defense Against the Dark Arts began, the tiny bit of hope Sheen held vanished. Although Sheen knew Professor Quirrell had once been a genius Ravenclaw, after becoming a double agent, he had clearly lost the knowledge he once took pride in. Or rather, he simply had no energy left to display it.

It was only then that Michael, sitting in the front row, understood Sheen's strange behavior. Sheen had sat in the very back row early on and had been buried in his studies since before class started. While Michael was still wondering why, a thick scent of garlic flooded his nostrils. Combined with Professor Quirrell's stuttering, incoherent reading from the textbook, Michael felt as if he had arrived in hell.

Beside him, Terry, who was closest to Quirrell, sat motionless, seemingly suffocated by the stench.

【Trolls are divided into several types: Mountain Trolls, River Trolls, and Sea Trolls. Mountain Trolls are the largest, with light gray bodies, bald heads, and skin rougher than a rhino's; they are stronger than ten men. However, their brains are only the size of a pea, so they are easily confused...】

Sheen read *Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense* intently. It was a book written by Quentin Trimble. Its cover had no text or patterns, only a deep black, just like its content: concise and efficient. Banshees, Ghouls, Hags, Trolls, Vampires, Werewolves, Tibetan Yetis, Boggarts, Redcaps, Kappas, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, and more were all crammed into this thin book. Despite being packed with detailed knowledge of various creatures and spirits, it still had space to introduce some counter-curses and breaking charms.

This was truly practical material, so Sheen memorized it repeatedly. His only regret was that, given Professor Quirrell's situation, it would be difficult for him to learn true defensive charms from the man. This meant Sheen had to teach himself. But whether it was the Disarming Charm or the Shield Charm, they were all advanced spells. At least, Sheen had not seen them in *Standard Spells: Level 1*.

So, how was Sheen supposed to learn?

Amidst Sheen's frowning, the Defense Against the Dark Arts class ended. The young wizards fled the classroom as if escaping a disaster, while Michael and Terry remained sitting in place, motionless, as if they had passed away in meditation.

Sheen walked over with slight concern, only to have Michael lunge at him with a loud roar: "It's so bitter!"

It gave Sheen a fright.

Compared to Defense Against the Dark Arts, the next class, Charms, was undoubtedly something Sheen looked forward to. Professor Flitwick was not a double agent; he was a wizard with genuine teaching ability. He would teach the young wizards the proper wand movements and the correct pronunciation of incantations, which was exactly what Sheen needed.

Sheen knew that a wizard's power came from belief, something many in his previous life called "the power of 'I think so'." But simply "thinking" wasn't enough; Sheen, who had once spent a continuous week just "thinking," knew this well. His explanation was that while it was true a wizard's power comes from belief, *how* one thinks and in what manner one thinks are also vital components.

As Adalbert Waffling, the "Father of Magic Theory," wrote in *Magic Theory*: "Most wizards cannot control magic autonomously, so they require the guidance of spells and wands to allow magic to be consciously manipulated to achieve a purpose."

...

The Charms classroom was on the fourth floor, so the constantly shifting staircases caused great trouble for the young wizards. The Ravenclaw students were all stuck at one staircase, while the staircase connecting to the Charms classroom refused to turn around.

In the back of the crowd, Terry was scribbling in a notebook: "I'm almost about to figure out the pattern."

Beside him, Michael covered his forehead: "Terry, although I believe you can succeed, by the time you figure it out, we'll be long overdue."

Facing the passing time and the unmoving staircase, the young wizards were as anxious as ants on a hot pan. Today was the first class of the Ravenclaw Head of House, yet his Ravenclaws were all going to be late—heaven forbid!

Sheen sighed and went back to his book. He couldn't change the staircase, so he could only review his textbook in advance.

"Alright, alright, get closer, Terry. We're really counting on you this time. Sheen, hurry up, at least don't be the last one to enter the classroom."

As Michael spoke, he pulled Sheen forward. Anthony and Terry followed closely, the four of them squeezing through the crowd.

"Are you done yet, Terry?"

"Almost..."

"That's your fourth identical answer! By Merlin's triangle-patterned underpants and smelly socks!"

Michael seemed to have lost his mind from the torture of the garlic and the staircases.

Just then, Sheen saw a very tall ghost pass through a wall. Her appearance suddenly triggered a thought in Sheen.

"Lady Grey," Sheen called out softly.

Lady Grey floated over, and the surrounding young Ravenclaws immediately felt the temperature drop.

"A ghost! Heavens!"

"She's coming over!"

Many young wizards felt more fear than curiosity toward ghosts. Everyone huddled together, and even the usually bold Michael asked tremulously, "Sheen, what are you doing?"

"The Prefect said Lady Grey might be related to the Eagle Ancestor, remember?" Sheen explained quietly.

"Lady Grey, could you help us get past the revolving staircase? We are going to be late for Charms class," Sheen inquired.

Lady Grey did not speak; she gave Sheen a serious look. That single look nearly gave Michael and Terry heart attacks.

"Too close... too close..."

"Sheen, this doesn't seem like a good idea..."

Amidst the trembling voices of the two, the staircase ahead rumbled and turned, quickly connecting to their current staircase.

Michael and Terry's eyes widened.

(End of Chapter)