Chapter 38 — Defense Against the Dark Arts
"I can only say—he's brilliant."
At that, Cedric's eyes lit up, his whole face beaming with excitement. "He's miles better than the last professor. What was his name again? Bah, doesn't matter. The important thing is—he's absolutely amazing."
Russell couldn't help but interrupt, amused by Cedric's endless praise. "Alright, alright, I get it. But what exactly makes him so 'amazing'?"
"First of all," Cedric began animatedly, gesturing as he spoke, "he showed us a moving mummy! According to him, it was an alchemical golem he made himself—human-sized, jointed, and fully animated. A bit slow, but still—impressive!"
"For our first lesson, he told us to attack the mummy using whatever offensive spells we were best at. He wanted to gauge our abilities. Of course," Cedric shrugged, "most of us are first-years, and we haven't learned much in Defense Against the Dark Arts yet—so almost everyone ended up using Severing Charms."
He leaned in conspiratorially. "Wherever the spell hit, that part of the mummy glowed—brighter for stronger hits—and it even displayed a score above it! And—" he grinned, chest puffed out, "—mine was the highest in the whole class."
Russell chuckled. "Alright, I'll admit—that does sound pretty fun." He was starting to look forward to his own Defense class now.
***
The morning's Herbology lesson, on the other hand, had been far less exciting. The topic: fertilization techniques. Unfortunately, Professor Sprout's special blend of fertilizer had a stench that could wake the dead—it was like someone had mixed rotten tofu with fermented amaranth, left it to marinate with pickled herring for a year, and then opened it right under your nose.
Russell nearly vomited. He swore to himself that next time, he'd learn a spell to block out foul odors. Anything to never smell that horror again.
By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, the whole class was buzzing. It was always one of the most anticipated subjects at Hogwarts—but its reputation fluctuated wildly from year to year, thanks to the infamous "one-year curse" on the position.
The problem was simple: competent wizards were rare, and even fewer were willing to risk their lives teaching a cursed post. More often than not, the school ended up hiring underqualified wizards looking to pad their résumés.
Dumbledore himself, Russell had heard, often lamented this fact. Some years, when the applicant pool was especially abysmal, he'd simply have to pick the least incompetent option available. The last professor, apparently, had been one such case.
When the bell rang, the students settled in, and their new professor—Professor Corvey—stepped up to the front of the class.
"Good afternoon, everyone," he said with a polite smile. "You should all know who I am by now, so we can skip the introductions. I've heard the rumors about me from other houses and upper years—so, rather than disappoint your expectations, I've brought a little demonstration to start things off."
The students perked up immediately as Corvey walked down from the platform to an open space near the front. He placed a large travel trunk on the floor, flicked open the latches, and reached inside.
Both his arms disappeared into the case—then, with a grunt, he pulled out what looked like a human figure wrapped entirely in ancient, yellowed bandages.
"Whoa!" gasps of awe and shock spread through the room.
Russell's eyes narrowed. Those wrappings looked old—not artificially aged, but genuinely ancient.
Could that actually be… real? he wondered. Then again, perhaps Corvey had simply purchased it somewhere—Britain was, after all, infamous for 'collecting' other countries' artifacts. The British Museum's Egyptian collection alone could fill an entire pyramid; who knew what private collectors had lying around?
"Alright, that's enough gawking," Corvey said lightly, stuffing the mummy back into the trunk with a thud. He dusted off his hands and turned back to the class, every student's eyes glued to him.
"The purpose of Defense Against the Dark Arts," he began, his tone growing firm, "is to learn how to resist and counter all forms of dark magic—whether from cursed creatures, dark spells, or malicious wizards themselves. We'll be covering curses, hexes, jinxes, and, later, proper dueling."
He waved his wand, and a flickering image appeared on the blackboard: the silhouette of a winged creature with fangs.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?" he asked with a faint smile.
James raised his hand immediately. "A bat, Professor! Are we going to fight bats today?"
"Mr. Baggins," Corvey said dryly, "not quite. These are vampire bats. Their danger classification is XX."
The class murmured.
"Of course," Corvey continued, pacing slowly. "The Ministry assigned that rating not because they're particularly powerful—but because of their numbers. Individually, a single vampire bat is so weak that even an unarmed Muggle could crush it without much effort."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"But," his voice dropped an octave, "they are pack hunters. They never attack alone. And if you fail to escape once they've found you… well, even a full-grown cow can be drained of every drop of blood in under three minutes."
A collective shudder passed through the room.
"That's horrifying…" someone whispered.
"What if we run into them in the wild?" another asked nervously.
"I can't stand bats—they've terrified me since I was little!"
The class dissolved into anxious murmurs as Corvey's thin smile returned. He let the tension hang in the air, feeding off it.
Russell, meanwhile, watched him closely.
So this is Professor Corvey, he thought. Charismatic, confident… and just the right amount of theatrical. No wonder Cedric was so impressed.
***
The classroom had erupted into anxious chatter. Faces turned pale, voices overlapped in rising panic as the word "vampire" echoed among the young witches and wizards.
Professor Corvey frowned, then clapped his hands twice. The sound, crisp and deliberate, cut through the noise.
"Quiet down, everyone," he said, tone calm but commanding. The murmurs died almost instantly.
"There's no need to panic. While vampire bats look frightening, they share a very prominent weakness — one that, in fact, most dark creatures share."
He paused for effect, letting the silence hang in anticipation.
"They fear light."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room, but this time with a hint of relief. Corvey's faint smile returned.
"Now," he continued smoothly, "I suspect some of you have already guessed what spell we'll be learning today. That's right — the Lumos charm."
He raised his wand with a fluid motion, and the tip bloomed with a soft, white glow. The light expanded, scattering into hundreds of tiny sparks that floated through the air, rearranging themselves into glowing silver letters that read:
[Lumos]
"This is a simple spell," Corvey said, his tone encouraging. "I'm confident you'll all master it quickly. And if you do…" — his eyes glinted mischievously — "we might even have time for a bit of hands-on practice."
He bent down and retrieved something from beneath his desk — a large metal cage covered by a thick, dark cloth. From inside came faint, high-pitched squeaks.
A ripple of uneasy excitement ran through the class.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added casually. "The Hufflepuff students have already completed this exercise."
That line landed like a spark in a tinderbox. The Ravenclaws, who prided themselves on intellect and achievement, instantly sat up straighter. Wands were drawn. Pages flipped. The competitive energy was palpable.
Even James, who was usually the picture of laziness, suddenly looked determined — muttering the incantation under his breath as if his life depended on it.
Russell couldn't help but smirk. A true master of human nature, he thought. He probably says the same thing to every house — just swaps the names around.
Still, it worked. The classroom was alive with eager magic.
Sparks began to flash and fade around the room as students practiced. The faint scent of burning candlewax mingled with the excited whispers of success. Within minutes, dozens of wands were glowing with steady light.
The Lumos charm was, after all, one of the simplest spells in existence — the foundation of every wizard's craft. It didn't take long for nearly everyone to get it right.
Professor Corvey surveyed the class, his smile widening. "Excellent. You've learned quickly — much quicker than I expected."
Then, almost theatrically, he stepped toward the wall and flicked his wand.
The torches dimmed. One by one, the lamps in the classroom extinguished.
The curtains drew themselves shut, and darkness swept over the room like a wave.
Only the faint glimmers from the students' wands remained — floating points of light in the blackness.
Corvey's voice echoed through the dark, low and deliberate.
"Now then…"
"Are you ready?"