Chapter 194: Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts Class

The person across from him spoke in a cold tone, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"That's just how people are. Once they grow old, they start rambling about the past. Especially after seeing one old acquaintance after another die—if I don't take the chance now, even I might be dead before long."

With that, he lay back down again, leisurely swinging his legs. "Later on, Albus came to find me. He actually asked me for help."

"That moment woke me up. We're both old now, who knows how many years we have left? Everything in the past…just let it go. After all—Albus had already bowed his head to me."

He stretched out his arms. "Once your mind is at peace, life naturally gets better." He pointed to the television, the bookshelf, the desk. "Everything here...was given to me by him."

"….."

The other man was silent for a few seconds. "Are you bragging?"

"Of course."

"As long as you're happy."

The man stood up. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Grindelwald smiled. "Looking forward to next time."

———

The next day.

Edward stepped into the classroom for the first time in a while.

The first class was the one even a top student like Hermione couldn't bear—History of Magic.

Professor Binns, the ghost, stood at the podium, reciting monotonously from the textbook in the same tone he'd used for over a century. Students all across the room were slumped over, catching up on sleep.

Only Edward listened attentively, diligently taking notes.

It wasn't that he had suddenly found History of Magic interesting, nor was he doing it out of respect for the professor who hadn't taken a day off in over a hundred years. He was playing the role of a Scribe.

Scribe could travel far and wide, documenting local customs, and they could also complete their records based on accounts given by others.

As dull as Professor Binns' lectures were, they still told the detailed story of the wizarding world's history and evolution.

From his mouth, to my ears, onto the page—that is the duty of a Scribe.

That was the first rule Edward had summarised for himself.

When the bell finally rang, students rushed out of the classroom in a stampede. Edward, prompted by Cedric, packed up his things and was about to leave when Professor Binns' voice drifted over:

"Oh, young man."

His speaking voice was no different from his lecturing tone. "You seem to have suddenly taken an interest in History of Magic?"

"Huh?"

Cedric looked surprised—until now, the two of them had always spent the entire class napping. You sly dog, trying to get ahead of me in secret, huh?

Edward said sheepishly, "Professor Binns, I just wanted to take some notes."

"Oh? Are you researching something specific?"

"Not quite. It's more of a personal interest."

Professor Binns nodded. "Well, if you ever need anything, feel free to come find me. I can keep lecturing without rest."

"Thank you."

But I need rest, Professor…

"All right then, goodbye, Mr. Riddle."

With his head lowered, Binns drifted through the wall and disappeared.

Mr. Riddle?

What the hell—did he just mistake me for Voldemort?!

Cedric asked curiously, "Why'd you suddenly want to start recording all this stuff?"

"Just interested," Edward replied with a smile. "This is only the first step. Next, I'm going to visit a few places in person."

"That's amazing!"

Cedric looked envious. "I wish I could go wherever I wanted like you. Hmm, have you decided where to go first?"

"Probably Godric's Hollow. I want to visit the hometown of the greatest white wizard in our world."

In truth, Godric's Hollow was much more than Dumbledore's hometown. It bore witness to the meeting, romance, and eventual rift between the light and dark Lords. It was the birthplace of the protagonist of Harry Potter, the site of Voldemort's (first) downfall, and it hid secrets of the Deathly Hallows.

It was, without doubt, one of the most worthy places to document outside of Hogwarts Castle itself.

As they stepped out of the classroom, they saw that the square outside the castle was filled with students throwing snowballs. The pesky Dementors, however, were nowhere in sight.

The Ministry removed them?

Edward had expected Fudge to use this as an excuse to deploy even more of them.

"Fantastic! I've been going stir-crazy these past two weeks!"

Cedric was visibly thrilled—he really was quite different from most Hufflepuffs. For most of them, heavy snow and roaming Dementors made for the perfect excuse to stay warm by the fire in the common room, nibbling snacks in cosy comfort.

"Come on, let's go!"

He picked up the pace and ran toward the stairs.

Just as they reached the first floor, Audrey walked up to them.

"Hello, Edward. Hi, Cedric."

Cedric, seeing what was happening, shrugged understandingly. "Ah, I knew it. Once a man gets a girlfriend, his time is no longer his own. I get it."

"….."

Edward stepped forward and gently brushed the snowflakes from the top of Audrey's head. "You've already been out playing in the snow?"

"Mhm!"

Audrey looked out at the snow-covered world and sighed in awe. "Hogwarts is so beautiful in the snow."

"It really is."

She turned back around. "Oh right—Professor McGonagall asked you to go to her office. Said she needed to speak with you~"

Professor McGonagall?

Don't tell me Lilith did something again…

"You'd better hurry—don't keep her waiting too long," Audrey said with a wave. "I'm off to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Bye-bye~"

"Bye-bye."

Watching her walk away, Edward turned and climbed the stairs to the second floor of Hogwarts Castle, where Professor McGonagall's office was located.

Knock, knock, knock.

Edward rapped lightly on the door. "Professor McGonagall? You asked to see me?"

"Come in."

The door opened on its own. McGonagall was seated at her desk, sifting through a stack of books. "Oh, welcome back, Edward."

She had a great deal of fondness for this student, who had demonstrated remarkable talent in Transfiguration—especially after Dumbledore mentioned he had mastered Human Transfiguration, a branch even she had never fully grasped.

"You know, Edward," she said, adjusting her glasses a bit awkwardly, "Headmaster Dumbledore has been…busy lately, with certain more pressing matters."

"So he's left a number of Hogwarts' responsibilities to me, which has really cut into my teaching time. After discussing it with him, we were hoping you could help me with some of the teaching duties for a while."

Edward froze, scratching his head. "Uh? I'm not quite sure I follow, Professor."

"I mean…I need you to substitute for some of my Transfiguration classes."

"…Huh?"

She gently pushed a few books across the desk toward him. "Mainly years one through three. I believe, given your abilities, it shouldn't be a problem."

"But I'm still a student myself. Is that really appropriate? Just because I know Transfiguration doesn't mean I can teach it well."

"How will you know if you never try? In fact, both Professor Dumbledore and I substituted for classes at your age. It's really not that unusual. 'One who is capable becomes the teacher,' isn't that how it goes?"

Edward hesitated, thinking it over. "But…I might be out of the castle frequently in the near future. And I have my own classes, too."

"That's fine. You'll be helping when your schedule allows—it's not a replacement for me."

She smiled then. "Of course, I'd love it if you stayed on to teach after you graduate."

With things put that way, Edward had little choice but to agree.

"Excellent. Your first class is this afternoon. Don't be late."

"Yes, Professor."

———

Audrey stepped into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and found Snape already waiting—he wasn't early; Snape had just arrived ahead of time.

He stood at the edge of the platform, beside a tall, man-sized cabinet that rattled every so often, as if something—or someone—was trapped inside.

Audrey took a seat at the empty desk next to Malfoy and turned to ask, "Do you know what that is, Malfoy?"

"No idea."

Malfoy shook his head, but seemed to find that answer too lacking and added, "It's definitely something for today's lesson. While you were away, he often brought in various dark magic artifacts for class."

A few minutes later, the golden trio—Harry, Ron, and Hermione—came rushing in, panting and dishevelled, slipping into their seats just as the bell rang.

Hermione sat down beside Audrey in a flurry and turned around to scold the other two. "I told you to hurry! Next time I won't wait!"

Ron looked aggrieved. "How was I supposed to know the rotating staircase would shift again?"

Harry simply apologised, "Sorry."

"You say sorry every time but never change!" Hermione snapped.

"…Sorry."

Just then, Snape waved his hand and the classroom door slammed shut. His voice—harsh and phlegmy as ever—cut through the room:

"Well? Should I invite you all to come up and chat in front of the class?"

Ron's face paled. "Great, we're losing points again…"

Strangely, Snape didn't deduct any points this time. He glanced briefly at Harry—or more precisely, at those bright green eyes—then turned to the cabinet and spoke:

"I thought that one or two practical lessons a week would correct your bad habit of rote memorisation. That it would show you Defence Against the Dark Arts isn't something you can pass by reading and writing essays alone."

"But I was wrong. Because some of you don't even have the courage to stand on a duelling platform. Even when I force you onto it, you're defeated in an instant. For such people, no amount of practice will ever make a difference."

"That's why I've decided to bring forward a lesson originally meant for your third year—to today."

His gaze swept across the room, finally landing on the hunched figure of Neville Longbottom.

"Longbottom. Step forward."

"Uh—y-yes, sir."

Neville staggered up to the front, trembling. Snape folded his arms and stepped aside. "Open it."

Neville hesitated.

With a flick of Snape's wand, the cabinet doors burst open with a blast of wind—and a second Snape stormed out from within, fury etched across his face, eyes locked murderously onto Neville.

"AAAAAH!!!"

Neville screamed and stumbled backwards, falling flat on his rear. His brain couldn't even process what was happening—there was a Snape in front of him, and a Snape behind him!

He ran—they chased. He had no escape.

He nearly passed out from sheer panic.

———

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