Chapter 52: The Dark Arts Class at Durmstrang
It hurts a bit!
This was Harry's first reaction. Then, he noticed that everything before his eyes was becoming blurry and ethereal, a silver mist enveloping his surroundings.
Just as he instinctively reached out to grab at it, the mist vanished. Gone, too, was the Hogwarts classroom... and Ron, who had just been sitting next to him.
His surroundings had transformed into an unfamiliar classroom, a somewhat gloomy place.
"Today is our first lesson on the Dark Arts." While Harry was still dazed, a middle-aged man wrapped in black robes walked into the room. Only then did Harry notice that there were strangers sitting around him.
Strangers, all dressed in uniform black robes, who also appeared to be students.
Where is this?
Harry opened his mouth to ask, but he heard the middle-aged man speak: "As students of Durmstrang, in my class, I have three things to say."
Durmstrang? Where is that? Harry's confusion didn't stop the man, who continued speaking to himself:
"First: The Dark Arts are not evil magic. What matters is the person using them!"
"Second: The best way to counter the Dark Arts is not to avoid them, but to learn them yourself!"
"Third..." He suddenly paused. Harry noticed his gaze was fixed intently on someone in the back row.
It was a person with silver hair, whose face was obscured.
"..."
"Never mind," the man frowned. "Let us begin today's lesson."
"Before learning the Dark Arts, we must first understand what the Dark Arts are."
So this is... a Dark Arts class at a place called Durmstrang?
Harry shook his head in amazement. How did Professor Hamilton do this? Did she create this with magic?
"Does anyone know?"
Hearing the Dark Arts professor's question, Harry instinctively looked behind him. Unfortunately, it wasn't Hermione sitting there, but a rather cold-looking young man.
He was staring at the middle-aged man, seemingly knowing the answer.
"Mr. Müller, do you know?"
The young man named Müller slowly stood up. "Dark magic consists of spells designed to harm others, causing significant damage to a person. To cast them, one must harbor hostility and malice toward the target."
"An excellent answer, Mr. Müller." The professor nodded in satisfaction. Instead of the applause one might hear at Hogwarts, however, there was a chorus of dissatisfied tutting.
Harry looked around at the other students and saw that most of them looked displeased...
This student named Müller doesn't seem very popular?
Clap... clap...
Only a somewhat lonely applause came from the very back row. Harry instinctively turned to look and saw it was the person with the silver hair...
Just as he was puzzled, the Dark Arts professor coughed and said, "Quiet down."
"Since everyone understands the theoretical knowledge of the Dark Arts, allow me to demonstrate what actual Dark magic looks like." He raised his wand, pointing it at the ceiling.
"Avada Kedavra!"
VMM!
A beam of sickly green light shot straight into the air. Harry fell back onto the floor, staring at the middle-aged man in shock, a piercing scream ringing in his ears.
But a second later, the scream vanished, replaced by the students' gasps of amazement.
It wasn't disgust or fear... Harry sensed it was admiration.
"This is the Killing Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses defined by the Ministry of Magic," the professor said slowly, looking at the wizards below. "It is also the most dangerous spell."
"And it is forbidden to use on humans." He suddenly smirked, a hint of sarcasm in his smile. "Believe me, this will change within a few years."
"Because... the Lord will..."
It was as if the audio suddenly cut out. Harry only heard intermittent words.
It seems... someone edited this part... Was it Professor Hamilton?
Harry shook his head in confusion... He felt a bit dizzy.
Was it because of the Killing Curse?
While he was puzzled, the professor continued speaking.
Unlike previous Defense Against the Dark Arts classes... although Quirrell wasn't a competent professor, his textbook lectures had still taught Harry some simple spells: spells to counter the Dark Arts.
But Professor Hamilton's Defense Against the Dark Arts class... Harry felt it would be better named "Dark Arts Class," because the entire lesson focused on the Dark Arts themselves.
Of course, perhaps Professor Hamilton did it on purpose... many details on how to cast these spells were blurred out.
Most of the time, Harry couldn't see the hand movements clearly.
Therefore, this was more like a theory class on the Dark Arts, focusing on specific knowledge about them.
Harry hadn't expected there to be so many Dark Arts... In just this one lesson, the middle-aged professor had demonstrated over a dozen Dark spells. Some were ones Quirrell had mentioned, but most were unfamiliar.
And the scene Professor Hamilton created... was incredibly realistic, as if it had actually happened.
While Harry was still wanting more, the mist slowly faded.
"Phew..." Then he heard the sound of people exhaling around him.
It was Ron... He looked to his side; his red-haired friend was sitting there, gasping for breath.
It seems to be over?
"Harry, Ron!" Just as he was about to speak, he heard Hermione's voice from behind him.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?" Harry froze, while Ron frowned and said nothing.
"Durmstrang... the realistic illusion... and the Dark Arts..." Hermione seemed to have a lot she wanted to say.
Not just her; the other students were also discussing it loudly. It seemed the... unique lesson just now had surprised them all.
Thud.
While Harry was thinking, the circlet on his head slowly floated up and returned to the desk.
It was Professor Hamilton... He quickly turned to look at the masked professor, still standing on the balcony.
"..."
Silence. A somewhat cold silence gradually silenced all the students. They thought of the Dark magic they had just seen... or perhaps the Killing Curse...
Whatever it was, they looked at Professor Hamilton with a hint of fear.
"..."
Professor Hamilton said nothing more. With a light flick of her wand, a piece of paper appeared on everyone's desk.
There were a few lines written on it.
"The circlet can be used repeatedly. If you wish to review the lesson content, you may put the circlet on yourself."
"Each person has only one circlet. Please take good care of it."
"If you have any questions you don't understand, you may write me a letter."
"DO NOT COME TO MY OFFICE TO FIND ME!"
The last line, written in bold red letters, made Harry raise an eyebrow.
Bang!
The office door slammed shut. Professor Hamilton had left.
"This is definitely not ordinary magic," Hermione said immediately after the door closed. "And this is not an ordinary magical item!"
"Is that so?" Harry thought for a moment. "Do you know what Durmstrang is?"
"Durmstrang is a magical academy similar to Hogwarts, located in Northern Europe," Hermione recalled. "Though it's famous for producing Dark wizards."
"Why would Professor Hamilton know the content of Durmstrang classes?" Harry mused. "Was that... some kind of memory?"
"Very likely," Hermione nodded seriously. "Such a realistic scene... it definitely wouldn't be simple magic... It has to be a memory."
She suddenly realized something and looked at Ron. "What's wrong, Ron?"
Harry also just realized that Ron had been sitting there silently, his face pale.
"I... I was just hit by the Killing Curse."
"What?!" Harry and Hermione looked at him in shock.
"What do you mean, Ron?" Harry said quickly. "Wasn't that spell aimed at the ceiling..."
"I was standing a bit close at the time," Ron whispered. "And I realized... they didn't have physical forms, so..."
"So you went and stood next to the Dark Arts professor?" Hermione looked at Ron with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?!"
"We... we'd better take him to Madam Pomfrey first," Harry pressed his lips together. "That circlet..."
"Be careful when putting it on..."
He glanced at the tightly shut office door.
Professor Hamilton really has a lot of secrets.
Professor Hamilton had no secrets! Her biggest secret was merely a slight connection to Grindelwald!
At this moment, she was leaning against the office door, clutching her head, unable to speak. Her pale face was covered in sweat, and her pointed ears were standing straight up from sheer embarrassment.
So humiliating! So terrifying! It makes me want to die!
I want... want to run away from here...
That was Lyra's assessment of her first class. Just standing there made her feel like she was going to faint; luckily, she had the railing to hold onto...
But that note... what professor communicates with students like that! I even said to write letters...
The students must be extremely disappointed! Lyra covered her face, trembling, her mind racing with why she had ever come here.
Finally, all her fears coalesced into one thought: Lord Grindelwald, please take me away!