Quirrell has taken leave. The official story is that after his unfortunate encounter with the Mountain Troll, he was so terrified he can't walk without trembling, making him utterly incapable of teaching his classes.
For the students—the "little wizards," as you call them—this was absolutely brilliant news.
After all, every single student who had to endure Quirrell's classes, from the First Years to the Seventh Years, was utterly allergic to that overwhelming, nose-burning stench of garlic that perpetually hung in the classroom. This near-toxic gas was an assault on everyone's nerves, testing the very limits of human tolerance.
Trying to mask the foul, rotting stench of Voldemort with garlic is tricky business. Unlike adapting to the stench of a long-neglected privy, this was simply too potent. It's the kind of smell your brain frantically rejects. Human adaptability, it turns out, is utterly defeated by Professor Quirrell.
Frankly, Lynn (the character mentioned later) could easily assume that the only reason a resurrected Voldemort won't have a nose in the future is that it completely rotted off from being trapped inside Quirrell's turban, stewing in its own fumes.
But don't get out your self-stirring cauldrons just yet. Just as the students were cheering about ditching Defense Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell, a champion of education—a professor willing to sacrifice his time for Hogwarts, and eager to promote the academic success of the younger generations—stepped forward: Professor Snape!
"Why on earth does Snape have time to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts as a second job?!"
A shriek went up among the frantic students after seeing the announcement posted on the common room notice board.
"Probably because of... love?"
The notorious twins (Fred and George), who always have a low-down on everything, mumbled this complaint with utterly deflated expressions. "Snape has been eyeing the D.A.D.A. job forever."
"But that means—"
"Double the points deductions!"
The twins threw their hands over their faces and wailed dramatically. "Gryffindor is doomed! Completely and utterly doomed!"
"Maybe Snape won't be so bad. I might even manage to earn some points!"
"What?!"
Upon hearing the familiar voice of their younger brother, Fred and George spun around with lightning speed, fixing Ron with a look of stunned disbelief, as if they were meeting him for the very first time.
"Are you running a fever?"
"He must be delirious."
"Perhaps it's a delayed side effect from that last Skiving Snackbox."
"We need to send Ron to St. Mungo's."
The twins' complaints were so synchronized, it sounded like a single, worried voice.
"I'm not the same as before!" Ron declared, sticking his chin out proudly. "I've started studying hard! Just you wait and see!"
"Well, good luck with that."
"And may we all mourn your imminent failure."
The twins didn't take him seriously at all. They knew their little brother's habits better than anyone. Saying he works in fits and starts might be too kind, and calling it a three-minute flash of enthusiasm might be underestimating him. Let's settle on a fifteen-minute burst of fiery resolve, and no more.
As the days passed, no one even needed to ask the older students how Snape's D.A.D.A. class was going—the hourglasses in the Great Hall were a stark, transparent indicator.
"You are the worst group of students I have ever taught."
"And that is not limited to Potions."
As soon as the First Years' Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson began, Snape coldly dropped that line.
To minimize his time commitment, Snape taught D.A.D.A. to all four Houses together. In the large classroom, his gaze swept over the crowd like an icy draft.
"More than two-thirds of you handed in utter garbage for the moronic assignment Quirrell set. I do not care how you conducted yourselves in previous lessons. But now, in my classroom, you will listen carefully and you will complete the work I set with diligence."
This opening salvo terrified the younger students. Although the D.A.D.A. classroom was on the third floor and much brighter than the dungeons, it was now mid-winter, and the air was freezing.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts—as the name suggests—is the study of how to protect yourselves from being harmed by dark magic. This naturally includes certain dark creatures and their particular brand of magic."
"Unlike witches and wizards, many magical creatures are born with an innate understanding of how to use magic, especially those lurking in the shadowy corners. They can very easily end your life without you even knowing what hit you."
His voice, barely above a whisper, sent shivers down the students' spines. They all felt as if something behind the curtains or under the desks was secretly watching them, its malevolent gaze sizing up which one was the tenderest.
Perhaps, in this very classroom, Snape—flapping his robes like a giant bat—was the largest Dark Creature of them all.
"Now, who can tell me... what, precisely, is Dark Magic?"
"Is it magic performed using a curse as the medium, and which requires the wizard to supply malicious intent?"
Lynn hesitantly raised his hand and spoke. He was genuinely confused; he had read so many books, yet none of them had given a precise definition of what Dark Magic truly was.
"It seems the rumors of your incompetence at Charms are well-founded," Snape sneered, fixing Lynn with a stare. "A curse is merely a structure used to cast a spell. Emotion can enhance magic, but it does not dictate whether the magic can be performed."
"The kindest, most benevolent person in the world can still use the Killing Curse to take a life, and the most evil villain can conjure a Patronus, provided their magical power is sufficient. Magic will take effect."
"Dark Magic is not determined by the surface appearance of a spell."
"However, you were correct on one point. All spells categorized as Dark Magic must possess one core trait—"
Snape tapped the chalkboard, and a line of text appeared:
"The malicious intent to harm others or other living things."
"Emotion is the amplifier of a spell. The emotion and intent a wizard pours into their magic will influence its ultimate effect. When magical power is insufficient, intense emotion can make the spell stronger. Yet, not every spell can be endlessly boosted by emotion. Invariably, the spells currently recognized as Dark Magic have an advantage over all others in this area."
"The Unforgivable Curses, for example."
"The malice required to kill a life, the malice to control another person's freedom, and the malice to enjoy another's torment—these three extreme emotions are the fundamental requirement for the Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse, respectively."
"Perhaps you think that, as First Years, these concepts are too profound for you. But I must tell you this: when you encounter a wizard who holds malice toward you, they will not care whether you understand these spells. Only that they do."
"This is not hyperbole. Across the sea in America, wizards die every day for unknown reasons. Hogwarts protects you far too well; it has too many protective enchantments. Ilvermorny, however, lacks Hogwarts' ancient safeguards. The most recent murder targeting an underage wizard occurred only fifteen months ago."
Snape gave a chilling smile. "You will not remain inside these school walls forever. And you cannot pray that every wizard you meet outside the school is a good person."