"I'm smelling something extremely strong," Kane said with a frown, alerting Harry and Ron.
"We smell it too," Harry and Ron replied through gritted teeth. They now understood why the students who'd come in after them had given them such weird looks when they saw the three of them sitting in the front row.
So...
Why hadn't anyone warned them?
"H-hello everyone. I am, am your D-Defense Against the Dark Arts p-professor. You can call me Q-Quirrell~"
Kane's mouth twitched as he watched Professor Quirrell stammer through his self-introduction, then pick up the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook... and start reading from page one.
Complete and utter rote reading. Starting from the author's biography, he read straight through for the entire class period!
With ten minutes left, perhaps because Quirrell was tired from reading for so long, he simply had the students take out their wands and practice whatever spells they wanted.
Meanwhile, he stood at the lectern going on and on about himself.
Kane could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Listening to Professor Quirrell's class was absolutely mind-numbing. He figured he'd need to sleep with a flower crown tonight just to recover.
Bang!
"Don't you think there's something off about this guy?" Maxwell suddenly appeared in front of Kane, hands braced on the desk, chin jerking toward Quirrell.
"What's your theory?" Kane asked curiously, leaning back in his chair.
"I think he's a lot like me. Very similar. We're both pathetic souls who got seduced by power and ended up as puppets."
"The difference is, I was tempted by the Codex Umbra, and I eventually became King of The Constant. But him? I don't know what got to him, but I can clearly see his life force draining away continuously."
"He probably won't make it past next winter," Maxwell said, dripping with sarcasm.
"So you're saying Professor Quirrell has some backstory we don't know about. Then what did Dumbledore mean last night? Make a good impression on Quirrell."
"Was he telling me to get Quirrell's attention?" Kane suddenly realized.
"I don't like that old man. I can't read him, but if I stood before him, I think he could read me just fine." Maxwell tapped his finger on the desk in front of Kane.
"So, are you going to do it?"
Kane raised an eyebrow. "It's just a request from a lonely old man. It's no trouble for me. Why not?"
Soon, the bell rang. Harry and Ron quickly left the classroom, then turned to look at the dawdling Kane.
It was one thing for him to ask questions after Flitwick and McGonagall's classes, but there was absolutely no reason to ask questions of today's Professor Quirrell.
In other words, they could finally get a hot lunch.
But what they didn't expect was that Kane still clutched his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and walked straight toward Professor Quirrell, who was packing up his things.
"Good grief," Ron said, frowning at the scene.
"What's the difference between this and eating garbage?" Harry was equally stunned by what Kane was doing.
It wasn't just Harry and Ron. Almost every young witch and wizard in the classroom was shocked by Kane's actions.
Seriously, mate? Do you have some kind of twisted learning obsession?
Hermione watched the scene, then took a whiff of that overpowering smell in the air. For the first time, she felt that Kane's actions truly matched his status as magical royalty.
Having to ask questions of someone like Professor Quirrell, who could only read from textbooks and excelled at marinating himself in corpse oil and garlic...
Being royalty was hard. Learning Defense was harder!
In the entire classroom, it wasn't just the young wizards who were surprised. The person in question, Professor Quirrell himself, was equally astonished.
After all, with his teaching level, he had some self-awareness, and he'd never imagined any student would come to him with questions.
But now there really was such a student, holding a textbook to his chest, eyes shining with genuine curiosity as he looked at him. It would be even better if not for those dark circles under his eyes.
"D-do you have, have any questions?" Quirrell asked softly.
"Of course. Professor, you just spent fifty minutes talking about specific solutions for dark creatures within the first ten pages of the textbook.
I'm wondering if there's a more general approach?" Kane subtly stopped breathing through his nose and instead took advantage of opening his mouth to speak to get air. This way he didn't have to smell that awful garlic stench.
"General? Of course, of course there's a general approach. This should, should originally be... be material for after Halloween, but, but since you asked, I, I'll teach you."
Professor Quirrell picked up paper and pen and wrote down an incantation, handing it to Kane. "This spell isn't, isn't in the book. It's very, very simple. No specific wand movement required.
Good for practicing... silent casting. Called, called the Knockback Jinx. But that's, that's just a name. It's really still a damage spell, just, just with a knockback effect."
Kane folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. "If I don't understand something, can I come ask you?"
Professor Quirrell's expression became even more pleased. "I believe a sharp, sharp young wizard like you will quickly, mas-master this spell. But if, if you need me, feel free to come find me."
"Thank you, Professor Quirrell." After speaking, Kane politely waved to Quirrell and hurried away. If he didn't leave soon, he really couldn't breathe anymore.
Right now, even if someone put a plain dinner roll in his mouth, it would taste like garlic bread.
"You've made contact with this Quirrell. What's next? Go tell that Dumbledore?" Maxwell appeared at Kane's side, asking.
"Otherwise I'd have inhaled all that garlic for nothing. If I really just wanted this spell, couldn't I ask a different professor?" Kane patted the parchment in his pocket, raising an eyebrow.
"You're not afraid of danger either," Maxwell snorted and disappeared.
"Danger? I escaped from Miss Charlie's sweet kiss in The Constant. I absolutely can't lose face," Kane said, rolling his eyes as he walked out of the classroom.
Harry and Ron came up beside him and sniffed. "If a dragon ate Hagrid and caught one whiff of you halfway through, it would count as a palate cleanser."
"The clothes will clean themselves in a bit. By the way, is there still lunch?"
The three exchanged glances.
Thud... thud... thud...
"Meatballs are ready. Time to eat."
In the dormitory, Kane had scrounged up some snacks and used the cauldron to make meatballs.
Only after all three of them were fifty or sixty percent full did they breathe a sigh of relief, feeling like they'd come back to life.
"By the way, what's the next class?" Kane asked. Harry glanced at the schedule posted on the wall. "Potions."
Kane suddenly sat up.
He looked at the cauldron he'd just been using to make meatballs, then at himself in the mirror, someone whose natural talent was automatically figuring out recipes by throwing ingredients into pot-like objects...
Potions class. It had finally arrived.