"What did he just say?"
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances behind Draco Malfoy, who had just muttered under his breath.
"Thanks."
"But no."
After the two lackeys repeated it aloud, Malfoy's already pale face went even whiter—then instantly flushed bright red.
"How dare he!"
Malfoy was livid. He had discussed Lucien with his father before.
Just a few days ago, his father had written to him, clearly stating that Lucien was a wizard from a Muggle family.
However, his father had also instructed him to try and befriend Lucien—someone with such talent and ability might still be worthy of the Malfoy family's recognition and friendship.
Malfoy's face alternated between red and white. He had lowered himself, gone out of his way, and even extended an olive branch!
"Whose friendship does he think he's rejecting? He's rejecting the friendship of a Malfoy!"
"Lucien Grafton is just a Muggle-born, just a—"
Before Malfoy could finish his furious outburst, a cold voice suddenly spoke behind him:
"Draco, what did you just say Lucien's background was?"
Turning his head, Malfoy's expression was still sour.
"Daphne? When did you get here?"
...
Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
"G-Grafton, let's… let's begin. T-today we'll discuss…"
Quirrell stammered, recalling his master's command. Before mastering that variant of the Imperius Curse, he was to teach normally and keep the boy's guard down.
"Professor, I remember you mentioned last time that you get nervous when there are many people, but speak clearly when there are only a few?"
Lucien's "kind" reminder made Quirrell fall silent for a few seconds.
"Ah… haha, yes, you're right, Grafton. I'm used to it."
Hearing Quirrell speak so fluently, Lucien knew immediately that this wasn't Tom taking control.
He was probably still recovering, and unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn't take over and waste his strength.
In truth, Quirrell could speak perfectly well; the stammer was merely an act.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Quirrell began, "is the practice of combating dangerous Dark wizards."
"And in battles between wizards, one must first understand the effects of various spells and how to counter them. Knowledge of Transfiguration, Potions, and even Herbology can also prove useful in combat…"
"No matter what kind of opponent you face, the most important thing is rhythm—to pull your opponent into a rhythm you're familiar with…"
Quirrell's explanation greatly satisfied Lucien and even surprised him a little.
Heh, after all, he had been an outstanding Ravenclaw graduate and had stayed on to become a Hogwarts professor.
His professional competence was impressive, and his theoretical knowledge extremely solid.
Wasn't this explanation quite good? Although still theoretical, it was far better than the dull, rote lectures given in class.
He even broke down certain points in detail, supplementing them with practical reasoning.
"A very representative defensive spell—Expelliarmus," Quirrell continued.
"It can disarm your opponent, forcing their wand or weapon out of their control. The key point is to emphasize the 'p' sound—it's a plosive when pronounced correctly…"
Ah, the famous "Harry's favourite spell."
Using Expelliarmus to disrupt the opponent's rhythm and gain the upper hand.
Hmm, indeed—the spell's effectiveness was closely tied to the caster's magical power.
Skill, on the other hand, was no longer the main factor; firm conviction and pure magic were what truly determined a spell's strength.
Perhaps this spell suited him quite well.
Lucien's magical talent was SS-rank—his growth rate and potential far exceeded ordinary wizards.
A wizard's magic naturally grew stronger with age.
Even without mastering advanced techniques, the power behind his spells would continue to increase on its own.
As Lucien listened to Quirrell's explanation, his understanding of the spell deepened.
No wonder Harry, even after learning so many new spells later on, still used Expelliarmus as his signature move.
Simple, straightforward—and effective.
But just listening to theory wasn't enough.
Lucien stood up and slowly drew his wand.
That single motion immediately put Quirrell on guard; he hadn't forgotten the boy's unrestrained display of magic in this very office last time.
"Professor," Lucien said calmly, "since this is a practical lesson, we can't just talk about it without practice. How about we try Expelliarmus? I have a few ideas based on your explanation that I'd like to test out."
The suggestion was perfectly reasonable, yet it made Quirrell hesitate.
Today shouldn't pose a problem. A first-year wizard—no matter how many spells he knew—would still have limited magical power.
Quirrell wasn't afraid of dueling with a child.
However, starting next week, when he would need to use the Imperius Curse variant, he would have to focus his magic completely. Casting other spells might easily interfere with it.
Lucien noticed Quirrell's hesitation and narrowed his eyes slightly.
Indeed, something was off.
Practicing spells with a student shouldn't be an issue—so why was Quirrell hesitating?
Was there something he couldn't afford to disturb?
"Professor, is something the matter?"
Quirrell clenched his jaw. Fine. It didn't matter for today.
Starting next week, he would stick to theory, delaying practical exercises until the curse was ready.
Hmph. For now, he would teach the boy a little lesson first.
Perhaps he could even leave Lucien with a slight psychological shadow—let the boy understand the professor's power so he wouldn't dare act so boldly again.
"No problem."
Quirrell drew his wand, having already decided to use about two or three tenths of his strength.
That much power was more than a first-year could withstand—enough to easily disarm Lucien.
With a flick of his wand, Quirrell moved the tables and chairs aside, making the already spacious office even more open.
Holding his wand before his chest, he said in a calm, instructional tone:
"Your wrist should stay light, but not too loose. Expelliarmus will cause the wand to shake, which leads to deviation—so aim precisely…"
Lucien nodded as he listened to Quirrell's explanation.
Such confident teaching—he really could have been a good professor. What a pity.
"The key points have been explained, Grafton. Do you remember what's most important in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Before Lucien could reply, Quirrell answered his own question: "It's this—never give your opponent the first move!"
"Expelliarmus!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Almost at the same moment, two voices rang out—followed by twin streaks of crimson light shooting from their wands.
The two spells collided fiercely in midair, sparks bursting from the point of impact.
Damn it!
Just as Quirrell was about to curse Lucien inwardly for being a cunning brat, he suddenly realized...
The collision point between their spells was rapidly shifting toward him!
What kind of joke was this?
Could a child like Lucien possibly possess such powerful magic?
Quirrell couldn't afford to hesitate. Instinctively, he poured more magic into his spell.
The advancing light slowed slightly, but still continued inching steadily toward him.
No, this wasn't right. Quirrell knew he had already used half of his strength—so how was he still being pushed back by a first-year?
And Lucien's expression remained completely calm, as if he wasn't even trying.
What kind of first-year wizard could have this kind of magical power?!
What kind of monster is this?!
Lucien noticed Quirrell increase his magic output and thought to himself that this was his first real duel against another wizard—he had never truly tested the limits of his own power before.
There was no need to reveal his full strength; what he was using now was already more than enough.
Just as Lucien was about to twist his wand, he noticed the silver-black surface suddenly shimmer with countless faint, ethereal runes.
The unexpected change caught him off guard—and at that same moment, a faint snickering sound echoed in his mind, though it didn't affect him.
Quirrell, however, went pale. The veins on his forehead bulged instantly.
A jumble of laughter—some shrill, some soft, some loud, some sinister, some gleeful, some mocking—erupted in his head all at once.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…"
__________
11 Advance Chaps- P@treon/DarkDevil1