Professor Binns looked… confused.
For the first time since the class began, he actually lifted his eyes from his ghostly lecture notes and looked down from the podium.
Draco Malfoy's pale face had turned the color of a ripe tomato, but there was no backing out now. He kept clapping, muttering half-hearted praises under his breath like some malfunctioning Muggle cheerleader.
The Ravenclaw students stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head. Even the Slytherins gawked in stunned silence.
They didn't get it.
How could a Slytherin—a pure-blood Slytherin, no less—have the gall to say something so utterly sycophantic it would make even a house-elf cringe?
But just as everyone was struggling to comprehend what kind of madness they were witnessing, Professor Binns tossed aside his spectral notebook and reached up to wipe a ghostly tear from the corner of his eye.
"I knew it. I knew someone would one day appreciate my lectures," he said, looking straight at Draco. Though his face was translucent, the words "soulmate of academia" might as well have been etched across it.
"Well done, Mazda. Ten points to Slytherin!"
"It's… Malfoy, Professor…" Draco murmured, completely overwhelmed.
"Of course, Malarkey," Binns nodded, as agreeable as ever. "You're the most outstanding student I've had in centuries."
After that bizarre moment of validation, something strange happened—Professor Binns came to life.
He began lecturing with a newfound fervor, voice still raspy but now carrying vivid inflections and genuine passion. He brought to life the eras he'd lived through, telling history not as dates and names, but as stories.
The classroom fell into stunned silence… and then erupted into frantic scribbling.
For the first time in a History of Magic class, every student was taking notes—the kind of detailed, rich, page-filling notes worthy of a N.E.W.T.-level seminar.
---
As they made their way toward the Great Hall for lunch, the students buzzed with disbelief.
"That ghost professor… actually knows a lot about wizarding history."
Draco Malfoy walked at the front of the Slytherin group, chest puffed out and chin raised high. After all, he had single-handedly "awakened" the long-dormant spirit of Cuthbert Binns.
"Pansy, did you know?" Draco was gushing to a tiny girl who looked like a lion-shaped poodle. "The moment I saw Professor Binns, I could sense the depth of his spirit."
"The reason his lectures put everyone to sleep was because he'd lost his passion after centuries of teaching. But my encouragement… it reignited—what was it again?"
He leaned sideways and whispered, "Lycos, help me out?"
"Reignited his lost passion for nurturing young minds," Lycos recited, not even bothering to look up. It was about the fifth time Draco had asked for the same line.
"Right! That's it." Draco grinned and turned back to Pansy Parkinson, who gazed at him with wide-eyed admiration.
Even while chewing on a cheese pasty in the Great Hall, Draco was still trying to brag to the older students—though his words came out muffled through his mouthfuls.
Lycos quietly slid his chair a little farther away, feigning unfamiliarity with the self-proclaimed hero of History class.
"Didn't you try to sneak out earlier?" Theodore Nott asked, raising an eyebrow. "When exactly did you 'sense' Professor Binns' inner brilliance?"
"That was just… a test! A final test before I acted," Draco insisted stubbornly.
From the side, Goyle leaned toward Nott and whispered—loudly enough for the entire table to hear:
"Pretty sure it was Lycos who told him what to do. Draco's not that clever on his own."
Crabbe nodded sincerely. "Sometimes I'm smarter than Draco. Like, I knew that cheese pasty tasted weird."
In their attempt to prove their closeness to Draco, the two had unwittingly thrown him under the Knight Bus.
"CRABBE! GOYLE!" Draco slammed his pasty onto his plate and launched himself at the pair, starting another round of wrestling.
Lycos quietly shifted another seat away.
At that moment, a voice whispered directly into Lycos' ear:
"Come to my office tonight."
He froze.
His eyes swept across the Great Hall, scanning for the source—until they landed on the staff table.
Professor Quirrell was seated near the far right, and their eyes locked across the distance.
---
Later that night, after curfew, Lycos quietly pushed open the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
"Is this about the Dark Lord?" he asked curtly.
"No, not this time," Quirrell replied with a gentle smile. "This is… a personal matter."
"A personal matter?" Lycos frowned. "You realize my main task is maintaining cover. We're not supposed to know each other—how am I supposed to explain showing up at your office every other night?"
"I know, I know," Quirrell said quickly, nodding. "But hear me out, Lycos. I really do need your help with something important."
"I'm a first-year," Lycos replied impatiently. "Exactly what kind of help do you think I can offer you?"
He meant every word. He wanted nothing more than to keep his distance from Quirrell—and, by extension, from Voldemort.
"It's not difficult. You'll absolutely be able to help," Quirrell said soothingly, pouring a cup of tea for him. "You know Slytherin has a Defense Against the Dark Arts class tomorrow morning."
"I do," Lycos said warily.
"I'm the one teaching it. But to keep my identity hidden, I can't use real spells—not seriously. My goal is to make people see me as a harmless joke. That way, if I slip up, no one will suspect me."
"Not a great plan," Lycos muttered, eyeing the tea. "You studied here. You even taught Muggle Studies. Don't you think Dumbledore and McGonagall already know what you're capable of?"
"It's fine. I'll just say I suffered trauma abroad, and my personality changed. It's perfectly plausible for magical ability to deteriorate due to emotional instability."
Quirrell waved a hand casually, trying to reassure him.
Lycos didn't bother explaining that Dumbledore had never taken his eyes off Quirrell from the very beginning.
"It's really simple," Quirrell continued, leaning forward. "All I need is for you to ask me a few questions in class. That's it."
"After that, you'll be off-duty for the week. Free to enjoy Hogwarts however you like."