NOVPUBChapter 622: Defense Against the Dark Arts Class for Sixth Years
In the classroom, Grindelwald meticulously wiped his wand.
The black velvet cloth glided over the smooth and flexible wand shaft, adorned with tiny, sparkling gemstones. His movements were precise, completing the task under the varied gazes of four professors.
Dropping the velvet, he brought the wand to his eyes, examined it, and blew away the dust with force.
At that moment, Grindelwald turned his head, his gaze piercing through the doorway to the chaotic queue in the corridor. Harry stood at the forefront, accompanied by a girl with disheveled brown hair, half-squished into the classroom, her mouth agape in surprise.
"Please come in," he grinned, speaking.
The students streamed in.
Harry thought about greeting the new professor but chose silence. His mind was occupied by the statue-like professor seated at the back. Why was Snape here? And for what reason Professor McGonagall? Also, Professor Hagrid, and Headmaster Dumbledore, did they plan this?
Hermione nearly tiptoed into the room, choosing a seat in the front row, trying not to draw attention.
Harry had started walking over but abruptly turned, his shoes screeching against the floor. He reluctantly sat next to Hermione. Followed by Ron, Neville, Seamus... Each student, upon seeing the four professors, toned down their bold actions, moving cautiously like stealthy cats. 𝑛𝘰𝑣𝘱𝑢𝑏.𝘤𝑜𝘮
Slytherin students exchanged glances, concealing the evident animosity on their faces. Their initial plan to embarrass the new professor and seek revenge on their head of house was now muddled. If it was just Snape, they'd assume the head of the house was causing trouble, but Snape wouldn't conspire with three other colleagues, especially not with the stern and fair Professor McGonagall and the headmaster who personally appointed him.
Once all students were seated, the last three rows remained empty.
"Chk."
Someone chuckled, finding the scene amusing. If the roles were reversed, Harry thought indignantly, imagining himself standing at the lectern or at the back of the classroom watching students like quails, he would find it ludicrous too. However, now he was one of them, unable to share the amusement at Professor Hagrid's expense.
He could only focus on the new professor.
The room was well-lit. Morning sunlight streamed through the wide-open windows, illuminating Professor Babbling's face, highlighting every wrinkle. Dressed in a black wizarding robe, Grindelwald appeared slender compared to a regular person, but he seemed healthier than when Harry first saw him. His gray-white hair was gathered behind his head, fine wrinkles on his neck hidden under the robe's collar, reappearing on the back of his hand. His hands were long, nimble, but no longer young, showing signs of age except for those slightly sunken blue eyes, sparkling like the glint on the Black Lake's surface outside.
Grindelwald put away his wand, hands behind his back, surveying the classroom.
"Hogwarts," he said, "an ancient wizarding school, unparalleled by any other in the world. I hope to see some enthusiasm on your faces."
A hint of pride appeared on the students' faces, sitting up straight with a sense of honor.
"Ah, it seems you've already realized that you are part of an exceptional community. This is a good start," Grindelwald said softly, his voice slightly husky but captivating the students.
They noticed that whenever he spoke, he subtly turned his toes, fully facing some students during each statement.
"I lived in the school for a while, and the most impressive thing for me was a sentence." Grindelwald uttered a Latin phrase, eagerly asking, "Can anyone tell me what this means?"
Most eyes in the class glanced towards a girl in the front row. There, Hermione's arm shot up like a javelin, hand in the air. She was fast enough to almost hit Harry, but Grindelwald caught the students' gaze, focusing on her.
"It's 'Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,' sir," Hermione nervously said, "also known as the Hogwarts motto."
"Your name, Miss?" Grindelwald took out a roll.
"Hermione Granger," she said softly.
"Granger," Grindelwald repeated, glancing discreetly at the last row where Felix was, whispering something to Snape. "Please sit, Miss Granger. Oh, I forgot something—Gryffindor, five points." He casually tossed the roll onto the desk. "I prefer getting to know you this way. Bring out your textbooks."
"Which one... sir?" a student asked, raising their hand.
"'How Muggles Think,' and you can call me Professor Babbling," Grindelwald asked Draco, "and your name?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"Another familiar name, a formal member of the Anti-Dark Arts Alliance, perhaps? Now turn to page 147 and read the chapter on 'Social Organizations.' You have ten minutes."
"But, Professor Babbling," a tall student frowned, "why do we have to study this in Defense Against the Dark Arts? If I want to know about Muggles, why not choose a Muggle Studies class?"
Other students stopped their movements—truth be told, they had little interest in the books in their hands, reasoning similar to Ernie's. No one wanted to foolishly read Muggle Studies books during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they hoped someone would voice objection. The students' gazes shifted between Ernie and Professor Babbling.
"Your name."
"Ernie Macmillan." Ernie straightened his chest.
"Hufflepuff?"
"Yes, sir." Ernie suddenly felt shorter for some reason; the professor's gaze seemed intimidating.
"Hufflepuff's Mr. Macmillan, why not spend ten minutes reading the content? The answer is there."
Reluctant sounds of reading and flipping pages followed.
"Can anyone tell me what you've learned?" Grindelwald looked around, asking, "Macmillan?"
Ernie was nervously sweating.
"Well... I learned a lot about Muggle clubs and organizational groups, like unions, interest clubs and associations, committees, religious followers, academic clubs, political clubs, parties, bands..."
"No, Mr. Macmillan, no." Grindelwald whispered, "I'm not asking you to recite what you've seen. Unless my judgment is wrong, I don't think there's a blind person here." Students chuckled softly, but Grindelwald didn't join; he remained serious.
"Use your brains," his tone became urgent, "your heads are meant for thinking—Harry Potter?"
Harry stood up, looking bewildered.
"Tell me what you thought of."
"Uh, a lot of people...?" Harry said softly, lacking confidence. Some students chuckled lightly.
"Another phrasing."
"I thought of some groups." Harry raised his voice.
"That's very close." Grindelwald walked towards him.
"...crowd?" Harry racked his brain.
"Crowd, yes, exactly," Grindelwald said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Strip away the carefully crafted disguise, and you'll see what a crowd truly is. Very accurate answer, Potter, please sit." He returned to the lectern.
Harry tried hard not to reveal his confusion, sitting back in his chair, unable to stop wondering what he had just answered. But his attention was fully captivated by Professor Babbling's words.
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