Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class the young wizards looked forward to the most—even Harry, a young wizard who had never been exposed to the wizarding world before, had been influenced by Ron and filled with unrealistic expectations for this class.
In the Great Hall, breakfast time.
"Fred and George said that in this class, we'll learn about real combat—" Ron repeated this every five minutes, his eyes full of longing. "Fighting Dark wizards..."
"We won't learn how to fight in the first class,"
Hermione corrected, sitting across from the three boys, putting away her pre-study textbooks.
"We'll first learn the basics of Dark Arts and how to defend against them, and then we'll learn the actual techniques—"
"Yes, Professor Granger," Ron pouted. "It's as if you've already taken the class..."
"…"
Hermione stopped arguing with Ron and stood up, leaving the table without a glance back.
"Honestly, I think she likes to preach a little too much—"
Ron turned to Harry and Cohen and complained.
"Shouldn't I have been sarcastic about her like that..." Harry said uncertainly.
"Ron, she's actually right." Cohen shoved the last of his porridge and slung his schoolbag. "The first class should really be a theory class, and..."
Cohen glanced at the empty staff table.
"Don't forget that Professor Quirrell is teaching us. He stutters even when saying two consecutive words. I have serious doubts about his teaching quality."
Cohen was right. Quirrell's class had become a disastrous joke.
His class was filled with the smell of garlic. Some said Quirrell did this to drive away a vampire he had encountered in Romania—but Cohen knew that Quirrell's strong garlic scent was actually to mask the stench of decay.
Because of Voldemort's possession, Quirrell's body must have begun to rot, just like the small animals Voldemort had possessed in the Albanian forests.
The first five minutes of class were normal, after all, Quirrell was just reading from the textbook. But when Seamus impatiently asked Quirrell how to defeat the resurrected zombies, Quirrell panicked.
His face flushed red, and he mumbled something about the weather.
Because Quirrell had set Cohen up yesterday, Cohen had a constant feeling that Quirrell was glancing at him, intentionally or not, as if waiting for Cohen to come find him after class.
But Cohen didn't intend to have a second, more in-depth encounter with Quirrell so soon—Voldemort's first encounter was merely a test. If a true alliance was to be forged the second time, given Voldemort's temperament, he would surely have Quirrell perform Legilimency on Cohen to gauge his loyalty.
Unsure if he, as a half-Dementor, was immune to the spell, Cohen planned to find time to test himself—or at the very least, learn a little Occlumency.
After all, Quirrell's current skill wasn't very high, so a little learning should have been enough to prevent it.
Otherwise, in the book, he could have used Legilimency on Harry while he stood before the Mirror of Erised, thus determining whether Harry had obtained the Philosopher's Stone.
"You're right, Cohen..."
Ron said listlessly after class, seemingly drained of all his strength and skills.
"I've never had such a difficult class," Harry grumbled.
But Harry's joy was clearly premature.
For Harry—and for most Gryffindor students, for that matter—the most difficult class was always Snape's Potions, followed by Professor Binns' History of Magic.
The afternoon Charms class was much more normal. Although Professor Flitwick had to stand on a pile of books to reach the podium, his teaching skills were far superior to his height.
Even the most boring theory, coupled with Professor Flitwick's amusing case stories and the occasional joke, could keep the young wizards entertained.
After dinner tonight, Quirrell didn't come to see Cohen as he had yesterday—that was a bit too suspicious.
But Cohen didn't return to Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Ron. Instead, he went to the library.
He was looking for books on Occlumency.
"Occlumency?"
Madam Pince, the librarian, looked at Cohen suspiciously. A first-year wizard had only been in class for two days; they shouldn't be exposed to something like "Occlumency" that wasn't part of the Hogwarts curriculum.
"Is it something you can't learn..."
Cohen looked at Madam Pince pitifully, feeling like he was about to force tears—he genuinely hadn't found any books on Occlumency. He felt like he'd already read every book in the spells section.
"It's not that you can't learn it..." Madam Pince wasn't fooled by Cohen's pretense of pity, but Occlumency wasn't something that had a grade level restriction.
In fact, Occlumency was incredibly safe, as it was even documented in—
"The Power of Sorrow, loan period: one week maximum." Madam Pince placed a thick, peeling tome in front of Cohen. "Please treat this book with care."
[If you scratch, tear, dent, soil, damage, throw, drop, or otherwise harm, abuse, or desecrate this book, I will inflict the most dire consequences within my power.]
This was the warning on the loan slip, written by Madam Pince. The sharp words alone spoke volumes about her aversion to vandalism.
After receiving the book and the loan slip, Cohen finally understood why he hadn't found it in the spells section.
Who would have thought The Power of Sorrow would be the book that documented Occlumency?
It was even in the principles section, where most books dealt with dry structural principles, like the fundamental theories of magical knowledge, rather than the evolving branches of spells.
The library closed at eight o'clock, so Cohen opted to take the book back to the common room. Cohen had originally planned to find an empty classroom, but running into Quirrell and letting him see the book might disrupt Cohen's plans.
"Cohen, are you crazy?"
Ron exclaimed in disbelief as Cohen, now carrying another thick book, entered the common room.
"It's only been two days since school started!"
"I didn't want to, but you can't bring video games into Hogwarts," Cohen said, spreading his hands. "I probably don't have much else to do besides read."
"You could play chess with us, or go to Fred and George. They're figuring out how to give Puffball a haircut,"
Ron gestured toward the group gathered around the fireplace.
The Weasley twins each held a pair of scissors. In front of them was a pink Puffball that had somehow made its way to Gryffindor Tower.
These creatures, resembling large, spherical marshmallows, are a favorite pet among wizards.
Many people love the adorable Puffball, as long as they don't mind eating dried human boogers.
Normal puffballs are very docile, but the one the Weasley brothers caught seemed less fearful, as it now crawled onto the face of either Fred or George like a facehugger, causing everyone around to gasp in surprise.
"Forget it," Cohen said, his skin crawling with goosebumps. It must be itchy to have a furball crawling all over your face.
Cohen chose a relatively quiet corner, intending to study how Occlumency works. After all, in the book, when Harry was taking a one-on-one lesson, all Snape said was "Close your mind."
A magic spell can't be without a spell, right?
Read 15+ chapters ahead at p4treon or
Support me for my study journey...
[email protected]/Horizons685
(End of this chapter)