Michael's resentment persisted even when Defense Against the Dark Arts class began. Tuesday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class—Ravenclaw had it together with Slytherin. Hogwarts courses were generally shared between two houses. Only in special circumstances, such as when special astronomical phenomena occurred, might all four houses take Astronomy together. This was also what Shawn heard from Michael's constant chatter along the way.
According to him, Defense Against the Dark Arts was Hogwarts' most popular course. This made Anthony and Terry's anticipation for Defense Against the Dark Arts reach its peak. Shawn, walking behind, shook his head. Defense Against the Dark Arts was indeed attractive, but the teaching quality was worrying.
The extremely important Defense Against the Dark Arts course—the first year's professor was a stutterer, the second year's professor was a fraud, the third and fourth year professors were fairly normal, by the fifth year it became a pink magical toad, the sixth year was the long-desired Professor Snape, and the seventh year was a Death Eater who persecuted without teaching. Looking at it this way, out of seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts, only three years could be properly studied. Therefore, Shawn decided to self-study.
He clutched Magical Theory of Defense in his hand—this was a fifth-year book, but Shawn had borrowed it early. He felt he would need it. Definitely not because he could read books for free without paying.
After Defense Against the Dark Arts class began, the little bit of hope Shawn held also disappeared. Although Shawn knew Professor Quirrell had once been a talented Ravenclaw, after becoming a two-faced man, he had obviously lost the scholarship he once took pride in. Or rather, he completely had no energy to demonstrate it.
At this moment, Michael in the front row began to understand Shawn's strange behavior. Shawn had sat in the back row early on and had been studying with his head down since before class started. Michael was still puzzled when a strong garlic smell surged into his nose. Paired with Professor Quirrell's stuttering, inarticulate recitation by rote, Michael felt like he'd arrived in hell. Terry beside him, closest to Quirrell, didn't move at all, as if he'd been fumigated to death.
Mountain trolls, river trolls, and sea trolls. Mountain trolls are the largest, with light gray bodies, bald heads, skin rougher than a rhinoceros, and physiques stronger than ten men. However, their brains are only pea-sized, so they're easily confused...
Shawn seriously read The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. This was a book written by Quentin Trimble. Its cover had no text or patterns, only deep black. Just like its content—concise and efficient.
Banshees, ghouls, hags, trolls, vampires, werewolves, Yetis, boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, hinkypunks, grindylows, and more were all crammed into this thin book. Despite being packed with detailed knowledge of various creatures and spirits, it still had room to introduce some counter-curses and breaking spells. These were truly practical things, so Shawn recited them repeatedly.
The only disappointment was that, given Professor Quirrell's situation, Shawn would likely have difficulty learning true defensive spells from him. This meant Shawn needed to self-study. But whether it was the Disarming Charm or the Shield Charm, they were all advanced spells. At least Shawn hadn't seen them in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. So how should Shawn learn them?
As Shawn frowned, Defense Against the Dark Arts class ended. The young wizards fled the classroom as if escaping. Yet Michael and Terry still sat motionless in their original places, as if they'd fossilized. Shawn walked over with some concern, but unexpectedly Michael lunged forward and shouted, "Suffering!" Startling Shawn.
Compared to Defense Against the Dark Arts, the next Charms class was undoubtedly what Shawn anticipated. Professor Flitwick wasn't like some two-faced people. He was a wizard with real teaching ability. He would teach young wizards wand movement methods and correct spell pronunciation—exactly what Shawn needed.
Shawn knew that wizards' power came from belief, also called "the power of I reckon" by many in his previous life. But just reckoning didn't seem to work—Shawn, who had reckoned continuously for a week once, deeply understood this. His explanation was that wizards' power came from belief—this was correct. But how to reckon and in what way to reckon were also important components.
Just as "The Father of Magical Theory," Adalbert Waffling, said in Magical Theory, "Most wizards cannot consciously control their magic on their own, so they need spells and wands to guide them, allowing magic to be consciously manipulated to achieve purposes."
The Charms classroom was on the fourth floor, so the constantly changing rotating staircases caused huge trouble for the young wizards. All the Ravenclaw students were blocked on one staircase, while the staircase connecting to the Charms classroom hadn't turned over yet.
Behind the crowd, Terry wrote and drew in a notebook. "I'm about to figure out the pattern."
Michael beside him covered his forehead. "Terry, although I believe you can succeed, by the time you figure it out, we'll have been late long ago."
Facing the constantly passing time and the staircase that still wouldn't turn, the young wizards were anxious. Today was the first class with the Ravenclaw Head of House, yet all his Ravenclaws would be late—goodness!
Shawn sighed and continued reading. He couldn't change the staircase, so he could only review the textbook in advance.
"Okay, okay, huddle closer. Terry, we're really counting on you this time. Shawn, hurry; at least don't be the last one to enter the classroom." Michael spoke, pulling Shawn forward. Anthony and Terry followed closely. The four squeezed out a path.
"Ready, Terry?"
"Almost... there..."
"That's already your fourth identical answer! Merlin's stinky socks under his triangle underwear!" Michael seemed tormented by garlic and staircases to the point of delirium.
Just then, Shawn saw an unusually tall ghost pass through the wall. Her appearance suddenly made Shawn think of something. "Lady Grey," Shawn called out softly.
So Lady Grey floated over. The surrounding young Ravenclaws immediately noticed the temperature drop. "A ghost! Goodness!" "She's coming over!" Many young wizards still feared ghosts more than they were curious about them.
Everyone immediately huddled together. Even the usually bold Michael asked tremblingly, "Shawn, what are you doing?"
"The Prefect said Lady Grey is one of Hogwarts oldest ghosts and the Ravenclaw House ghost, remember?" Shawn explained softly. "Lady Grey, could you help us get through the rotating staircase? We're going to be late for Charms."
Lady Grey didn't speak. She looked at Shawn seriously. Just this one look nearly scared Michael and Terry into heart attacks. "Too close... too close..." "Shawn, this doesn't seem like a good idea..."
In their trembling voices, the staircase ahead rumbled and turned, quickly connecting with the current staircase. Michael's and Terry's eyes widened.