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Back in his previous life, when Harry had been a fervent reader of Harry Potter, rather than a fervent experiencer of Harry Evans, he had been a firm believer that Dumbledore had known of Quirrel's possession. In his mind, it made sense that the man had tried to lure the dark lord to Hogwarts to trap him somehow, since the prophecy said he could not kill him.
Perhaps if everything had gone to plan, Quirrell would have been trapped in the Mirror of Erised with Voldemort's shade until all the Horcruxes had been destroyed and Harry had been old enough to swing a sword at the mirror and break it and the person trapped within. An elegant solution.
Last year, when Harry had given Dumbledore information on the Horcruxes, he had refrained from telling him that his former Muggle Studies Professor would come back possessed by a dark lord. He had felt that this would be a bit of a stupid thing to say, considering that it could still not happen. He had said that the shade was probably somewhere in the forests of Albania, but that was about it.
If Dumbledore had not made the connection in the original books, this information and the fact that Quirrell had been in Albania and come back with a turban on his head, then the headmaster should likely be able to make it now. Once again, Harry couldn't do anything as all the cards were in someone else's hands.
Thankfully, other than the troll incident and the attempted murder of Harry, Quirrell had never harmed a student in the books.
Of course, this didn't make attending the man's classes any easier.
Harry had been lucky enough that the 1st of September, when the students had gotten back to Hogwarts, had fallen on a Thursday. Since Defence against the Dark Arts was set on Mondays and Wednesdays, this allowed him to have a one-week reprieve to think about the fact that he was most likely going to be taught by Voldemort this year. Or at least, by a man possessed by Voldemort.
This just went to show how naive he had been in thinking that Twix had been anything but an angel sent by god to nurture the next generation to the best of her abilities. Sure, those abilities may have been virtually non-existent, but at least she'd only tried to kill Harry himself. Voldemort would, if resurrected, go on to try to kill half the Hogwarts population and their families.
Being faced with a dark lord instead of just a crazy bitch truly did relativize one's complaints about other people.
"You okay, mate?" Cedric asked from next to Harry as they waited in front of the classroom. "Already shivering about how I'm going to beat you in a duel later?" he asked cockily.
"Cedric, please. You're not going to beat Harry. Unless he lets you, I guess," Penny said. "Also, stop being an ass. I actually want to get taught some duelling. If you make him cancel the deal, I'm going to poison your breakfast for a month."
Cedric paled a bit at the threat. After all, a certain blonde had already slipped him something last year. The potion of rigorous flatulence wasn't anything to laugh about.
The boy mimed closing his mouth with a key before swallowing the imaginary construct.
"You have been oddly quiet, though," Penny said, turning to Harry and flicking her long blonde hair. A small cloud of lavender perfume flew into Harry's face. Penny was entering the stage of teenagerhood in which girls were learning how much perfume was too much perfume.
He would have to find a polite way of telling her that the correct amount would have been about ten times less.
"I mean," Harry said, scratching his chin. "Hogwarts doesn't really have a good reputation for its defence professors. Older years tell me that James Potter was the best we've ever had in the long run. Do you remember Twix?"
Penny shrugged. "Twix wasn't that bad. She just wasn't very good at her job and tried fighting Flitwick or something. A prefect recently told me that in their first year, the Defence Professor tried stealing Dumbledore's wand. Now that's crazy!"
"How did that go for the defence professor?"Cedric asked.
"Badly. Apparently, he got transfigured into a quadriplegic toad before he could even breach the front door to the headmaster's quarters."
"I don't think Dumbledore has it in him to make anyone quadriplegic," Harry mused, trying to distract himself from the upcoming lesson.
"Paraplegic? Maybe?"
Unfortunately, before they could further discuss the topic, the door to the classroom opened and the students filed in chattering excitedly about the upcoming lesson.
The Hufflepuff and Slytherin combination was, in fact, one of the last to attend the Defence against the Dark Arts class.
Other students had already reported that it was surprisingly good.
Quirrel was standing in front of his desk and waiting for them. He watched as they all found their seats before starting to speak.
"Welcome, students, to another year of Defence against the Dark Arts. A subject plagued by a general lack of competent teachers. Last year notwithstanding. We have a lot to work on, so do not mind if I simply get started. After all, who knows how long I will hold the post?" He chuckled. "In this time, I hope to imprint upon your brains as much knowledge as I can. As I should, no?" Quirrell asked rhetorically as he strode to the blackboard situated to the left of his desk, his cloak fluttering behind him.
There was a distinct lack of stutter. Something that other students hadn't mentioned either, implying that the man did not have it. The purple turban was firmly attached to his head, though, and the smell of garlic permeated the room. It was a sparsely decorated affair. The usual wooden benches, along with some obscure-looking artefacts that didn't hint at any opinion or ideology on the teacher's part. A red cloak. A shrunken head. A wooden stake with what seemed to be fresh blood on the tip.
"This year, we will be covering some creatures that you may meet in the wild and that you will need to defend yourself from. I saw on the lesson plan that Professor Potter already covered several of them. This frees me up to also start the discussion on the most dangerous creature that you will likely ever face in your lives." Quirrell continued and stopped in front of the blackboard, where an idle twitch of his finger made a piece of white chalk fly up and stay afloat in the air. He turned towards the class. "Can anyone tell me what this most dangerous creature is?" he asked.
No one raised their hands, unused to the very direct approach of teaching that Quirrell was using.
The professor turned his head to survey the class from the left to the right before eventually settling his disturbingly clear blue eyes on Harry.
"Mr. Evans. We both know that the answer lies in your head, simply waiting to be said. Why don't you enlighten us?" he said in a low voice, which nevertheless cut through the stuffy atmosphere of the room like a scythe.
Harry frowned, not liking the fact that he'd been called on. "The most dangerous creature we will ever face will be another wizard or witch. The wand allows for a large variety of magic, which directly translates into a broad threat portfolio. Similarly, magical humans are known to be one of the most intelligent magical beings. Since intelligence is one of the biggest predictors of danger, they would most likely be put into the five-star category of the creature threat list if they were indeed on it."
"A good answer," Quirrell said. The chalk flew behind him, leaving two words on the blackboard. Wizards & Witches.
"Another thing that should be said is the fact that wizards and witches are some of the only magical beings who receive a thorough systemic education. This means that whatever magical human opponent you will find yourself facing will be just as knowledgeable, if not more, about the world as you. Knowledge often translates into power, especially in a world when incantations can change the world around us," Quirrell continued, before putting a pause into his speech so that the class could take notes.
He started pacing in front of the class restlessly with his hands clasped behind his back, his pointer finger moving in circles to direct the white chalk. It danced in the air and scribbled the various attributes of wizards and witches on the blackboard. Variety of skills, intelligence, knowledge, training, intentionality.
"However, rather than simply discussing the average magical as a threat, the name of the class is Defence against the Dark Arts. Can anyone tell me why the Dark Arts are more dangerous than a foe simply using the levitation charm to drop an anvil on our heads?"
Rather than allowing him to be singled out again, Penny, who was sitting to the right of Harry, raised her hand.
"Yes?" Quirrell queried and waved in her general direction.
"Well, I know that wounds inflicted by dark spells don't heal that well. So I guess if you get hit on the head very hard, you can still get saved by a mediwitch. With dark spells, it might be more difficult," the girl said with a slight amount of hesitation in her voice.
Quirrell waved his hand slowly in the air and didn't award any points. "A very incomplete answer. While it is indeed true that the dark spells resist healing, blunt force trauma to the head can be as immediately fatal as the killing curse. The real issue of dark magic is simply that it is much, much more powerful in combat terms than any other type of magic. After all, this is what it was specifically designed for. It takes advantage of emotions such as anger and hatred, which are usually held in combat against one's enemies and harvest them for productive purposes. Dark spells are much harder to block because of this emotional component, and this also makes the results more unpredictable. One of the most common denominators of dark spells is the fact that they are hard to heal. However, depending on the emotional state of the caster, they can cause a variety of different ailments."
Another column was added to the blackboard. Dark arts: powerful, unpredictable, ever-growing.
"Another similar issue is that a defence against a falling anvil and for any other neutrally aligned spell can be a simple shield charm. Nobody is going to redesign the levitation charm to push objects through magical shields. If they want to kill you, they would rather redesign the Dark Arts. The people who tend to use them are doing so for a cause... because they need power to affect something. While there are only a few levitation charms, there are countless dark spells which essentially achieve the same result. That is because a different mutation of a spell is created every time a new counter is conceived. The Dark Arts are very much like a hydra. Every time that a head is cut off, two more grow to take its place."
Quirrell waved his hand as if to chase away his previous words.
"Regardless of any of that, there are three spells belonging firmly in the category of the Dark Arts. Even if the whole subject was composed only of the three, the dark arts would still retain their place as the most potentially dangerous branch of combat magic."
He started scanning the class again. "Can anyone tell me what these three spells are?"
A few Slytherins slowly raised their hands.
Quirrell pointed to one of them.
"The three Unforgivables. Any one of them will get you a lifetime in Azkaban," one Slytherin girl muttered.
"Yes, the three Unforgivables. A lifetime in prison. Can anyone tell me why that's the case?" Another look around the classroom. This time, no one raised their hand. "Mr. Evans, why don't you tell us?"
Harry frowned. Was he going to get the call for the entirety of the year when no one else had the answer? It wasn't like he could simply refuse, or pretend he didn't know, it would go against his principles.
"One of the most important prerequisites to casting a spell is the intent. The three Unforgivables form a trifecta of intent indicating the willingness of a user to kill, torture and control. These are all heavily punishable offences, and considering that the spells won't work without the intent, any successful casting proves beyond a reasonable doubt that the user is unfit to live in society."
"Mr. Evans, that is a surprisingly incomplete answer," Quirrell mocked.
"While that certainly proves why the three Unforgivables are punishable by a stint in Azkaban, it hardly proves why the sentence is for life and without parole. Attempted murder usually carries around 20 years, mind control 15 and torture 10. Why is it that these spells in particular merit a lifelong sentence? Remember, in the case of a wizard, this can very well last up to 200 years, even if most people don't live long in the presence of dementors."
Harry didn't actually know the answer to that, but he could speculate. "It is because of the fact that by using these spells, a person has not only committed the previously described crimes but has also ideologically confronted the societal standards imprinted in our government. Dark magic is forbidden, and anyone who knows how to cast it to such a level can also teach others. Any magical knowing how to cast the three Unforgivables not only represents a threat to other people's lives, but also to society at large."
Quirrell slowly nodded. "You have identified the crux of the issue. The reason why the Dark Arts are banned is that people are afraid of them and what their existence implies about the nature of man. The reason people are scared of them is that the Dark Arts are powerful and reject the very basis of society as we understand it, cooperation and peace. Most of you likely do not know anything about the Muggle world, but there is a reason why not everyone is allowed to carry a weapon on their person there. It is considered too dangerous. Similarly, despite every wizard and witch being equipped with a wand, it is the magic that one is allowed to use and learn that is restricted. The Unforgivables push this threat to an absurdity that most governments in existence today are not willing to suffer. Of course, there are countries, for example, Russia, where dark magic is taught publicly in school. But you will find that cases like this are relatively rare," the professor said before trailing off. He stood there seemingly lost in thought for a few seconds before his eyes regained clarity.
"Perhaps you understand now what you might face one day if you are unlucky enough. An intelligent being wearing the face of a human, wishing to do harm unto you and your loved ones with the very magic that you wield as well. Just darker. More powerful. There is a reason that Crouch, our minister now and during the war, had to allow the use of Unforgivables by Aurors in wartime. It was because only fire could fight fire. There are very few people like Dumbledore who can use a field like Transfiguration to fight on even footing with magic designed solely for killing." The implication was obviously that no one in the class was like Dumbledore. The suggestion was that if they ever found themselves in a difficult situation, they too could use the Dark Arts.
Voldemort was said to be a great orator and very charismatic, or at least so the story had said. His actual dialogue mostly consisted of megalomania and general insanity. However, now that he was being taught by the professor possessed by the dark lord, Harry was starting to see the dangers of his charisma. He was very in your face, very confident, very opinionated. Those attributes generally convinced those unsure of themselves.
For all that his speech had essentially been focused on characterising the Dark Arts as problematic and something to be defended from, it nevertheless brought the concept closer to the average student than it otherwise would have been.
The fact that the Dark Arts could corrupt an unpracticed user into insanity, which would have perhaps painted a bit of a too unfavourable picture, was left out.
"That initial talk out of the way, I will now switch the topic to one of the spells that any wizard should know to protect themselves when confronted by danger. The shield charm. It is a spell that can block both physical and magical threats at the same time. It does not repel most dark magic in its base state, but suffices for the weaker varieties of it," Quirrell said, and it seemed like the bulk of the lesson, potentially unpainted by any ulterior motives, was to begin.
The next 15 minutes were spent explaining the intricacies of the shield charm and having students practise the wand movement and the incantation before they were sent to group up into pairs.
Harry had already almost fallen asleep, having mastered the shield charm to a higher level than most of his contemporaries were likely to ever see. He wondered what Voldemort would actually focus on if the curriculum was up to him. The shield charm was one of the basics, but maybe the man had other opinions. Unfortunately for Voldemort, he was stuck on a curriculum.
That was funny for some reason.
His internal laughter stopped, however, when Quirrell addressed him as people started forming pairs.
"We will now split up into pairs to practise the charm. Use the knockback jinx alternatively on each other. Anyone who manages to deflect, let's say five by the end of today's lesson, can get the equivalent amount of points for their house. Since we're an uneven number, Evans, you will practise with me," Quirrel announced and waved his wand to push all the desks to the side, clearing a large and open space for them to practise in.
Cedric and Penny obviously paired up with each other, leaving Harry to the mercies of his professor, who also happened to have a dark lord stuck to the back of his head. Allegedly.
He grimaced and suspected that this was not going to be fun.
Quirrell smirked at him as if reading his thoughts. They faced off in the middle of the room, everyone else giving them a wide area of space.
"I assume you've already mastered the charm to a level that most of your classmates can't even imagine," the man complimented. "Which is why I think it would be quite a waste for you to practise with them. I think, considering your advanced level, it is indeed gratuitous that this class has an uneven number of students. It will allow me to challenge you appropriately for the rest of the year," the man said, delighting very obviously at the fact that Harry was not particularly happy to hear that piece of news.
"There might not be that much reason for you to cast the attacking spell at me, since I do not need the practice. However, I will nevertheless allow it to give you a reprieve from only defending," the professor continued and entered a light duelling stance.
"You may begin. You have five spells before we switch. Then, we switch again when your shield breaks and so on," he explained.
Harry didn't wait for no clock. His wand flew out of his sleeve faster than it had ever before, and he twitched it in the air in one upward diagonal motion to release five disarming jinxes.
It was for nought, of course. A translucent blue spherical shield appeared in front of the purple-robed professor, and the disarming jinxes dissolved on it in small explosions of red sparks. The tepid protection didn't even have the decency to waver.
Harry calmly prepared himself to cast the shield charm while Quirrell gave him an appreciative nod and dropped his. The man then suddenly twitched his wand. It wasn't a competition, obviously, but if it had been, the man would have won. Whereas Harry had cast five spells in one swing of an arm, Quirrell cast five with a simple twitch of his wand.
The translucent and nearly invisible knockback jinxes slammed into Harry's hurriedly raised shield and fractured it beyond repair by the fourth hit. The 5th dissolved the entire thing and Harry was left with nothing.
The knockback jinxes were not, in fact, particularly suited for breaking apart defences. Neither was the disarming jinx. The reason for that was that neither of them held any particularly malicious intent. The spell that Harry knew, which was best suited for breaking shields, was in fact the stupefaction jinx. The intent of knocking the enemy user unconscious strengthened the metaphysical properties of the spell and was more direct than the intent to knock them back or disarm them.
That's what he went with then. "Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy, stupefy, stupefy," he chanted calmly as he cast the spell again and again, much slower than his previous attempt.
Quirrell's shield naturally remained unharmed.
When it was his turn to go again, Quirrell raised his wand and slashed it down once, releasing what looked to be a yellow hammer. The construct flew through the air at a ridiculously fast speed and smashed against Harry's Protego, shattering it in one go and making Harry's body vibrate down to the bones.
The young boy twitched at the impact. It was mentally exhausting to have one's shield continuously broken. After all, the user's intent was mixed in with the protection.
As he saw Quirrell's slight smirk hiding a small amount of sadistic satisfaction, Harry got the impression that he would very much get used to the feeling of having his shielding reserves depleted by the end of the lesson.
15 minutes later he found himself sweating and nearly collapsing to the ground. His belief had been correct, but that was no solace. If Quirrell had been brutal in the first two exchanges, then everything that had followed afterwards had been absolutely nauseating. The man hadn't given him a minute of respite and it pushed Harry to what he felt like were his limits, and then beyond.
He didn't particularly think that the beyond part was due to any pedagogical reasons either. The man was likely just enjoying people's suffering.
All the other students looked at him with pity as the lesson neared its end. Even the Slytherins! Thankfully the professor left him alone at that point, excusing himself and walking by the different pairs to correct their efforts and giving points for their successes.
It was just as the bell rang and Harry thought that he would finally be able to free himself of the lesson, that Quirrell spoke up once again just as Harry had joined Cedric and Penny on their way out of the classroom.
"Mr. Evans, stay behind if you will, I have something to discuss with you."
Harry stopped in his tracks, petrified, and then sighed, closing his eyes and raising his Occlumency shields.
"Go on without me," he told his worried-looking friends and turned around to face the professor. The man was already sitting down at his desk, perusing a large stack of parchments. Was that homework? Harry wondered as the other students filed out of the room and left him alone with the possessed teacher.
Quirrell idly raised his wand towards Harry, probably enjoying his flinch, and pointed it at the wooden chair, which suddenly appeared at the gesture in front of his desk.
"Come, sit," he ordered.
Harry reluctantly obliged.
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AN: Uh-huh. Wanna read ahead like a gazillion chapters, find out what Quirrell wants earlier, and support my mom's second favourite son? There's Patreon for that!