The morning sun shone lazily through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall as students gathered for breakfast, still buzzing with yesterday's news of Roy Valvas's meeting with Professor Dumbledore. Whispers about the boy with the ice bird and phoenix's favor filled every corner, but Roy paid them no mind. He was more interested in his steaming mug of tea and the parchment schedule beside his plate.
Defence Against the Dark Arts — Gryffindor & Hufflepuff
He sighed. "This should be… interesting," he murmured.
By midmorning, Roy walked into the Defence classroom — a dim, musty room that smelled faintly of garlic and dust. Candles flickered unevenly on the walls, and a faint rustle came from a cage covered with a cloth on the teacher's desk.
At the front stood Professor Quirrell, trembling as usual, his purple turban slightly askew. His voice quavered as he greeted them,"W-welcome to D-d-defence A-against the D-dark A-arts!"
Roy sat beside Susan Bones, glancing around. Most students from both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor looked either bored or half-asleep. Even Harry Potter was stifling a yawn, while Ron Weasley doodled on his parchment.
Professor Quirrell began reading in a nervous stutter from "A Beginner's Guide to Defence Against the Dark Arts." His lecture dragged on, full of half-told tales about his travels and how he'd once "nearly been devoured by vampires in Romania."
Half an hour later, Roy couldn't take it anymore.
He raised his hand. "Professor Quirrell?"
The stammering teacher paused mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. "Y-y-yes, M-mister… V-valvas?"
Roy stood politely. "Sir, instead of just reading the textbook, could we perhaps learn actual spells? Practical defence — something useful, like disarming or protection charms?"
A hush fell across the room. Even Harry looked up, interested.
Professor Quirrell blinked rapidly, wringing his hands. "Ah, w-well, you see, p-practical spells are d-dangerous for first years, and— and—"
He trailed off, fidgeting. Then, as if remembering his "heroic" tales, he added, "I—I o-once faced a v-vampire named D-dracula himself, and h-he wanted to k-kill me! I e-escaped only because I k-knew the power of p-pure courage!"
Roy tilted his head, his tone calm but sharp. "So if a dark wizard or vampire came to attack us, are we supposed to throw our textbooks at them and shout about our courage?"
There was a long pause—
—and then the room erupted in laughter.
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike burst into giggles, tears forming in their eyes. Even Hermione, who tried to hide her smile behind a quill, snorted softly.
Ron Weasley almost fell out of his chair laughing. "Oh Merlin—that's brilliant!"
Quirrell turned bright red, his turban quivering. "Th-th-that is not— how d-dare you— I— I'll—"
But before he could finish, his lower lip trembled, and with a dramatic sniffle, he spun on his heel and bolted from the room — robes flapping, door slamming behind him.
For a moment, silence.
Then Fred and George Weasley, sitting in the back row, burst into applause.
"Roy Valvas, ladies and gentlemen!" Fred announced."The man who finally made Quirrell cry!" George added.
The entire class howled with laughter again, clapping and cheering.
Roy, facepalming, muttered under his breath, "I didn't even insult him… I just asked for an actual class."
By lunchtime, news had spread across the entire castle:
"Roy Valvas made Professor Quirrell cry!""He told him to throw a book at dark wizards!""Even the portraits are laughing!"
At dinner that night, the Great Hall was still buzzing with the story.
Fred and George plopped down beside Roy at the Hufflepuff table, grinning like maniacs."Roy, mate, you've done the impossible," said Fred.George nodded solemnly. "Made Quirrell run from his own class. You're a legend."
Roy sighed, poking his mashed potatoes. "All I did was ask him to teach. He left on his own."
The twins burst into laughter again.
"Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that," Fred chuckled. "But from now on, you're the guy who made the Dark Arts professor cry."
Susan Bones giggled, nearly spilling her pumpkin juice, while other Hufflepuffs clapped Roy on the back. Even some Gryffindors at the next table raised their goblets toward him in salute.
Across the hall, Professor Quirrell sat at the staff table, pale as a ghost, occasionally glancing fearfully toward Roy — who simply sighed and went back to eating his dinner, pretending the whole school wasn't whispering about him.