Right up until bedtime, Avada listened as Xavier and their other three roommates enthusiastically went on and on about Hufflepuff's culinary achievements, as well as the cooking magic supposedly left behind by Helga Hufflepuff herself. By the time they were done, he was practically starving.
Fortunately, a senior student arrived just in time to put a stop to that cruel late-night torture.
Then that same senior went to the kitchens and came back carrying a plate of fragrant, freshly baked cookies…
In the end, Avada failed to resist temptation. With tears in his eyes, he ate several cookies before bed—so many that he barely managed any breakfast the next morning.
What made it even more tragic was that the very first class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Just yesterday, Avada had learned from Xavier that real Defense Against the Dark Arts was nothing like how it was portrayed in the books. After all, if you were going to defend against dark magic, you had to fight, right? And if you had to fight, then surely you needed a strong body.
As a result, Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't just about learning curses and dark creatures—it also doubled as physical training and combat practice. Running laps around the Black Lake or putting on protective gear to spar in pairs was perfectly normal during class.
"Please don't let there be anything too intense for the first lesson…" Avada prayed silently.
He followed the main body of Hufflepuffs into the classroom, with the Ravenclaws in blue-lined robes filing in after them. That alone made him feel much better—at least if there was combat practice, he wouldn't be facing fearless, charge-ahead Gryffindors.
When the bell rang, a tall, slender, and refined-looking middle-aged wizard stepped into the classroom, smiling as he waved to the students.
"Good morning, everyone! Although Headmaster Dumbledore already introduced me at the opening feast, I'm afraid some of you little ones might have been too excited to listen carefully, so I'll repeat myself…"
He turned and raised a hand. Chalk floated into the air and neatly wrote a name on the blackboard.
"Benjamin Baker. I am a council member of the International Dark Magic Defense Alliance and an adventurer. I've traveled across Greece, Eastern Europe, and Africa, and I've fought dark wizards and dark creatures on many occasions. I believe I have sufficient experience in dealing with dark magic—enough to serve as your professor and teach you knowledge that is both plentiful and practical."
"He sounds amazing," Avada heard a soft voice from the Ravenclaw side—probably a girl. "An adventurer, and he's traveled everywhere! Maybe he's as cool as Gilderoy Lockhart!"
"When I first took this position," Professor Baker continued calmly, ignoring the murmurs, "many senior professors told me that the first lesson for first-years should let them truly experience the charm of this subject—to ignite their interest and passion. So, I prepared this…"
He pulled out a magical device from beneath the lectern, something vaguely resembling a projector. Then he raised his wand to his own temple and slowly drew out a thin thread of white light, feeding it into the device.
"Watch carefully."
He tapped it with his wand, and a curtain of light appeared in midair, displaying dazzling scenes.
On the screen, Professor Baker stood wand in hand, locked in furious combat with a masked figure wearing ornate black robes.
The masked wizard slashed several blue blades of light, forcing Baker to dodge aside, then—almost prophetically—fired a brilliant green beam at the very spot where Baker was about to land. At that moment, the ground beneath Baker turned fluid like water, swallowing him whole and letting the green light pass harmlessly overhead.
The next instant, Baker emerged behind his opponent and hurled a fireball. The masked wizard raised a shield in haste—only to discover it was an illusion. The real Baker stood cloaked in invisibility at a distance, gathering a terrifyingly powerful spell.
Realizing the deception, the masked wizard erupted into roaring flames, indiscriminately burning everything around him, forcing Baker out of hiding.
Then the two clashed head-on.
Sometimes they fought at close range, moving with lethal precision, wielding wand and magic like concealed daggers. Other times they leapt apart, unleashing cascades of brilliant, devastating spells like waterfalls crashing into one another. At one point, the masked wizard even summoned a dragon—its iron-hard claws and scorching breath pushing Baker into grave danger.
After nearly ten minutes of brutal combat, Professor Baker proved the superior wizard. After slaying the dragon, he used terrain reshaped by Transfiguration, combined with illusion and invisibility, to trick his opponent into wasting a fully charged attack. Seizing the opening, Baker launched a ferocious barrage that utterly defeated the masked wizard.
The light curtain faded.
Professor Baker put away the projector and looked down at the students with satisfaction. They were utterly transfixed—faces pale, eyes wide with tension and excitement, some of them barely breathing.
He clapped his hands sharply, snapping them out of it. The classroom erupted in collective exhalations.
"Merlin, that was terrifying!"
"When the dragon appeared, I swear my heart stopped…"
"And that purple bolt—when it hit the professor's shoulder, I nearly screamed…"
Avada fared slightly better, but his heart was pounding just the same. The battle they had just witnessed was like a blockbuster with unlimited budget—long-range spell duels rivaling even Dumbledore and Voldemort's clash in Order of the Phoenix, and close-quarters combat as thrilling and ruthless as the most intense martial arts films.
Professor Baker's mental power was clearly far inferior to Dumbledore's—yet in actual combat, he was still unimaginably terrifying.
After letting the students discuss excitedly for a while, Baker clapped again, restoring silence. A hint of nostalgia crossed his face as he began to speak.
"What you just saw was the most perilous—and most pride-worthy—battle of my adventuring career. It certainly can't compare to the legendary duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, but it still holds commemorative value."
He paused before continuing. "My opponent was Greek. You may have heard his title—Aethered the Ever Prepared. He once ruled much of Greece and nearly became the so-called 'Shadow King.' He's even listed on Chocolate Frog cards."
"As his title suggests, Aethered was exceptionally cautious. When fully prepared, he was almost unbeatable. At the time, I was investigating his dark wizard organization in Greece and defeated many of his most trusted subordinates—so he decided to deal with me personally."
"He spent months laying the groundwork. He researched me, planted false intelligence, sent repeated attacks to drain my stamina, used his agents within the local Ministry of Magic to pressure me… and finally constructed an extraordinarily vicious battlefield meant to end me—anti-Apparition wards, poisonous air, cursed terrain…"
"Thankfully, I wasn't entirely unaware, and many of his methods failed. Even so, between his traps and his formidable personal power, I very nearly died. In the end, however, I emerged victorious. It was after that battle that I earned my seat on the Alliance council."
Smiling at the awe and admiration in his students' eyes, Professor Baker continued, "Now then—I trust you all understand the appeal and importance of Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Let us begin our very first lesson—"
"How to use your wand properly."
"Some of you might wonder how this even qualifies as a lesson. Isn't using a wand just a matter of holding it and performing the motions while reciting the incantation? That may suffice in daily life—but in real combat, it's nowhere near enough."
"How should a wand be held for maximum control and stability? What stance allows the fastest spellcasting in battle?"
"These are the true foundations of Defense Against the Dark Arts—and even seasoned Aurors may never fully master them."
(End of Chapter)