Hogwarts Great Hall.
Scattered around the long tables, young wizards were eating lunch.
The air was filled with the smell of fried fish, chips, and steak.
Lucien cut into his fried fish, once again grumbling inwardly about the food desert that was Britain.
He missed all kinds of exotic dishes that his head chef, Gordon Ramsay, had prepared since he was a child.
At home, he could have Gordon prepare all kinds of dishes, Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Indian.. you name it... But at Hogwarts…
Hmm, House-elves. They have magic, so maybe they could learn how to be on par with a Michelin-starred chef, right?
He'd find a chance to give them Gordon's cookbook; it would be a good way to improve everyone's meals.
Squeak, squeak—~~
Lucien looked up at the noise. Harry, sitting across from him, was still frowning, sawing into his steak as if it were his enemy. It was lunch and there was plenty of space, so he chose to sit with Harry.
He just wanted to cheer up Harry after seeing him come from the potions class like that. It had nothing to do with him wanting the Philosopher's Stone ..promise.
"Snape is just targeting me!"
Harry said indignantly.
"I clearly said I didn't know the answer, and Hermione was raising her hand to answer, but Snape just kept badgering me! What did I do to upset him?"
Lucien watched Harry bury his head in his food, then suddenly thought of something.
"Harry, when Professor Snape was scolding you, were you also looking down?"
At Lucien's question, Harry looked up, chewed a few bites of beef, and swallowed with a gulp.
"Yeah, Lucien, you didn't see it!"
Harry suddenly set down his knife and fork, took off his glasses, and fixed his emerald-green almond eyes in a glare, putting on a deadly serious face:
"Oh, Potter, tell me, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Can't answer? Then where would you look if you were trying to find a bezoar?"
Pfft—
"Cough, cough, cough…"
Ron, who had been drinking mushroom soup, nearly spat it out when he heard Harry's vivid imitation of Snape.
But with Lucien and Hermione sitting across from him, Ron quickly covered his mouth, choking and coughing nonstop.
Seeing Harry's imitation, Lucien's lips couldn't help but curve into a smile.
This kid really did have a sense of humor.
Harry spread his hands helplessly and put his glasses back on.
"Lucien, Professor Snape was practically right in my face. If I hadn't looked down, his spit would've sprayed all over me!"
"And then he even sat directly across from me, just staring at me. I could practically smell his greasy hair. I really wanted to give him a bottle of shampoo!"
Lucien looked at Harry in surprise.
He hadn't expected this kid to have such a sharp tongue. He'd rather die than lose when it came to presence—or words.
Ron, who had just calmed down, shot Harry a grumpy look.
"Then you should send him Potter brand shampoo, the one from your family. That way, when Professor Snape kills you, maybe he'll do it a bit more mercifully."
Seeing these two clowns about to launch into a comedy routine, Lucien quickly cut in, steering the topic elsewhere.
"Harry, you wear those glasses because you're nearsighted, right?"
Harry nodded.
Lucien went on, "Have you ever considered taking off your glasses during class—especially Potions?"
This time, not only Harry looked confused—Hermione and Ron also turned to Lucien in bewilderment, wondering what he was getting at.
"But if I take off my glasses, I really can't see the words on the blackboard. Wouldn't Professor Snape target me even more then?"
Hearing Harry's concern, Lucien couldn't help but complain inwardly.
Heh, you wearing those glasses, with that black hair, with a face that looks exactly like your father's, is precisely why Snape targets you even more.
Lucien snapped his fingers.
"That's simple. There's a potion called Bright-Eyes Potion that can restore eyesight for two or three hours.
It's part of the first-year Potions curriculum and shouldn't be difficult to brew."
At Lucien's suggestion, Harry scratched his head.
"Sorry, I'm not very good at brewing potions."
Lucien gave him a steady look.
"How long have you even been exposed to Potions? Why dismiss yourself so quickly? And… There's no need to hate the knowledge a teacher teaches just because you dislike the teacher.
Knowledge itself isn't good or bad."
Harry nodded, still a little bewildered. He couldn't fully grasp Lucien's meaning, but somehow it felt right.
"Also, after you take off your glasses.. ehm.. If Professor Snape still keeps asking you questions or scolding you—Just stare straight into his eyes!
Even if you're scolded to tears, you must keep staring at him."
Now Harry looked even more confused. Hermione and Ron glanced between the two of them, unsure.
Was Lucien holding some sort of grudge against Harry, giving him advice like this?
This time, Ron spoke up for his friend.
"Uh, Lucien, will that really work? Won't it just…"
Lucien waved his hand, answering with conviction: "When you haven't yet mastered what the teacher is teaching, that's when you should show your eagerness to study even more.
The eyes are the windows to the soul. You need to communicate through your gaze—let Professor Snape see that even though you're learning slowly now, you are determined to study diligently!"
Lucien's reasoning left the three of them stunned.
Something about it didn't feel quite right, but none of them could find a flaw in it.
Seeing that they had mostly finished eating, Lucien picked up his book and prepared to stand.
"Is your first class this afternoon also Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
The three nodded eagerly, their faces full of anticipation and excitement.
Defense Against the Dark Arts, unlike the practical charms taught in Charms Class, was a subject focused specifically on combat.
Harry, in particular, looked the most excited. After being completely suppressed in Potions that morning, he was desperate to experience some real magic.
Seeing the expectation on their faces, Lucien couldn't help but show a slightly pitying expression and shook his head.
"Let's go, time for class."
…
Afternoon.
Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
After the bell rang, the much-anticipated professor, Quirrell—his head wrapped in a long cloth—arrived late.
But as Quirrell entered the room, he also brought with him a pungent odor.
Some of the young wizards raised their hands to cover their noses.
Lucien simply tapped his wand, casting a Freshness Charm over his mouth and nose, filtering out the overwhelming garlic smell.
"H-h-hello, I am Q-Q-Quirinus Q-Q-Quirrell. Y-your D-Defense Against the Dark Arts t-teacher."
Hearing Professor Quirrell's stammering self-introduction, the young wizards exchanged glances, and the classroom quickly erupted into murmurs.
"Q-quiet, n-no, no shouting."
Ron couldn't help but whisper to Lucien and the others:
"Is this really the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Is stuttering even allowed? He's not a substitute, is he?"
Hermione spoke hesitantly, "Perhaps… perhaps this professor's theoretical knowledge is very good, and his strength is also very strong?"
Even she didn't sound convinced by her own words.
"A-alright, let's b-begin w-with chapter one…"
And so, Lucien listened as Quirrell rambled about the meaning of Defense Against the Dark Arts, then its forms, then its history, and finally its future expectations…
Lucien narrowed his eyes, almost feeling like he was hallucinating.
Wasn't this just like that bald professor from his university days before he transmigrated—the one with decent academic ability but absolutely terrible teaching skills?
How did he end up here?
Did that bald professor also get transmigrated?