The Defense Against the Dark Arts class in the afternoon was, thankfully, a refreshing change of pace and exactly what everyone had been hoping for.
Professor Budd Brod was a delightfully witty and self-deprecating old man. He began his very first lesson by immediately addressing the elephant in the classroom—the decade-long turnover rate of the DADA professor.
"You may not know this," he started, a humorous twinkle in his eye, "but the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is notoriously cursed. No one stays in this position for more than a year, and I think I should be no exception. My contract is for ten months, and before I inevitably meet some bizarre magical end or simply go mad, I intend to teach you the knowledge you need to survive."
The class was stunned into silence before a ripple of nervous laughter spread through the room.
"Professor, you can't even break this curse?" Roger Davis, a Ravenclaw known for his academic directness, raised his hand and asked.
"I'm afraid not, young Mr. Davis," Professor Brod replied, shaking his head with mock solemnity. "Over the past few decades, many professors—some far more accomplished than I—have tried, but they've all failed. If even Dumbledore couldn't lift the curse, I won't pretend I can. Self-knowledge is the most important thing, after all. Now, enough about my doomed tenure. Turn to page five of Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense. Class is about to begin."
Professor Brod, however, rarely followed the textbook. He often went off on humorous tangents about his own travels and encounters, sharing extremely practical, if eccentric, advice.
He spoke about vampires, for instance, revealing that many don't actually need to suck blood; they just crave the taste of it. "I once dealt with a very thirsty vampire in the Balkans simply by offering him a blood-flavored lollipop—a Muggle invention, surprisingly effective." He added, jokingly, "Girls, you need to be extra careful, as most vampires are prone to targeting young witches."
When discussing Werewolves, Professor Brod's advice was absolute and delivered with serious gravity: Stay away from them.
"Most vampires and werewolves are registered with the Ministry of Magic, but that doesn't mean there aren't some unregistered ones that slip through the net," he warned. "If you are bitten by a transformed werewolf, you will yourself be turned. Werewolves are, sadly, often shunned by the wizarding world, making it difficult for them to find decent work. Many, having lost everything, go astray."
"My first piece of advice for encountering a transformed werewolf outside of a controlled environment," Professor Brod declared, leaning heavily on his desk, "is to Apparate and run away. Do not engage. Do not linger. Do not try to charm it. That thing is no longer human; it is a creature of lethal magic, and engaging with it means a high risk of being bitten."
"If you are bitten by a transformed werewolf, you face something more cruel than death—becoming a werewolf yourself," he repeated, letting the terrifying reality settle in the classroom.
"Professor Brod," someone called out, "what if we encounter a werewolf where there's nowhere to run?"
"In crowded areas, your best bet is to use a Locking Charm on the nearest door to buy time. As magical creatures, transformed werewolves will most likely lose their minds and focus on the immediate barrier. Lock the door, then immediately cast Red Sparks to call for help."
"What if we're in the wilderness or the plains, and there's nowhere to hide?"
"In times like that, my dear students," Professor Brod said, raising his hands in defeat, "I think you can only pray to Merlin."
"Can't a strong spell subdue a transformed werewolf?" another student persisted.
"Yes, a powerful wizard can," Professor Brod nodded. "But I would never tell a first-year to challenge a transformed werewolf. That is an absolutely foolish, suicidal idea. You are courting death. The bite itself is often fatal without immediate, specialized treatment. And even if you survive the bite, you will have to face something more terrifying than death—you will become a werewolf."
"What if we are bitten by a werewolf that hasn't transformed?" Albert asked suddenly, interrupting the fear-mongering.
"That, Mr. Anderson, is an excellent question," Bud Brod said, looking at Albert and nodding in approval. "Being bitten by a human who hasn't transformed won't entirely turn them into a werewolf, but it will leave some werewolf characteristics on their body. Crucially, the wound will be incredibly difficult to heal. It requires a difficult, precise mixture of silver powder and distilled water to treat werewolf wounds and prevent serious contamination."
He clapped his hands to bring the class back to order. "Why don't we write that down? Pay attention, stay alert at all times, stay away from werewolves, and avoid being bitten. That is the best and only way to protect yourselves."
Before the class ended, Professor Brod taught everyone two very basic but crucial practical spells: how to use a wand to shoot Red Sparks and Green Sparks into the sky.
He explained their meaning: Red Sparks generally symbolize danger, distress, and an urgent call for help, while Green Sparks can represent agreement, a gathering point, or locating a target. Everyone quickly wrote down the incantations and wand movements in their notebooks.
The homework for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was simple, direct, and pragmatic: practice casting the two spark spells until they were flawless.
He is a reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
This was Albert's assessment of Professor Budd Brod. The old man was witty, humane, and incredibly practical. He didn't teach according to the useless content of the Dark Powers textbook. Instead, he drew upon his own experiences, focusing on prevention and escape over confrontation—a far more useful lesson for a group of eleven-year-olds.
"I really hope Professor Brod can teach us some practical combat spells soon," Albert heard George complain after class, echoing a sentiment many students shared. They seemed to yearn for the glory of dueling, not the shame of running away. They hadn't grasped the core of Brod's advice at all.
"Don't be too greedy," Albert said, not hesitating to pour cold water on their high expectations. "You haven't even mastered the Lumos Charm yet. You still have Transfiguration to practice, and the Unlocking Charm." He held up his hand. "And now you also have DADA homework: practicing how to cast Red and Green Sparks."
The three boys immediately deflated, their excitement wilting like a Devil's Snare exposed to light.
Yes, they had a mountain of spells they hadn't learned. Even if Professor Brod taught them advanced counter-jinxes, they wouldn't be able to cast them in a short time. The reality of magical competency was brutal.
"If you want to learn some very useful defensive magic, I have a copy of Practical Defensive Magic and Its Countermeasures Against Dark Magic that I can lend you," Albert offered with a smile as they turned a corner near the staircase. "I learned the Shield Charm that I used this morning from that copy. It's a very, very practical book."
At the mention of the Shield Charm, the three boys' eyes lit up instantly. The image of the ink splashing harmlessly against Albert's barrier was still fresh in their minds. They seemed ready to abandon all other plans and start studying immediately.
The book, as Albert described, was excellent, full of defensive charms, anti-curses, and poison-reversal spells, all accompanied by colorful, detailed animated illustrations. It was, as Albert said, a tremendously practical—and expensive—reference book.
The three boys could hardly tear their eyes away from the cover.
"You've learned all the spells in here already?" Lee Jordan asked, his voice full of hope, as if they were planning to beg Albert to teach them everything in a single, intense tutoring session.
"How could that be?" Albert scoffed good-naturedly. "I haven't learned many of the advanced ones myself. And you two," he said, turning to the twins, "aren't you supposed to be mastering the Unlocking Charm first? Filch's office won't unlock itself."
The lure of the prize—the contents of Filch's confiscated goods drawer—was enough to refocus their attention, but the thought of Albert's private library lingered.
"Just a few more hours of practice, then," George said, tapping his wand against his palm, "and then maybe we can borrow that defensive book?"
"Perhaps," Albert conceded. "But you'd better master the Alohomora first, or that drawer will remain sealed forever."